


Stolen

by tomlinbum



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, kidnap, masturbation in one chapter, maybe smut idk yet???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinbum/pseuds/tomlinbum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles never really saw getting stolen by someone quite as beautiful as the bloke with the blue eyes and the dashing smile, but surprises happen.</p>
<p> -or-</p>
<p>The one where Harry’s at the Starbucks by the airport and he gets lured into an adventure of sadness and a roller coaster of emotions by one simple, “Hi, can you get me a coffee, please?” from the beautiful bloke with the blue eyes and dashing smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Harry’s family (his mum, sister, and step father) had a tradition for every summer. Every summer, they would fly to a part of the United Kingdom to visit family members that were too far away to visit constantly and by car.

Harry had packed all his clothes, shoes, accessories, electronics, and everything else he’d need to keep him occupied for the summer and once everyone else was ready, they were off to the airport.

———-

“Mum, I’m going get a coffee, you want something?” Harry said once they were in the seated area of the airport. It was still early and Harry was properly knackered and they were going to be there for a good hour and a half because his step father, Robin, liked to be safe rather than sorry (meaning he’d rather be at the airport extra early rather than take a chance on not getting there on time and missing the flight).

“No thank you, darling. Just be back as quick as you can, yeah? I’ll call you if anything happens and you call me if anything happens, too, yeah?” his mum, Anne, replied, kissing his cheek.

He nodded and made sure he had his wallet and phone before he was on his way to the Starbucks that was inside of the huge airport. He only had to walk for a mere five minutes before he was face to face with the café.

He walked in and looked around – he noticed there was a good bit of people sitting and drinking coffee or eating something or on their laptops or mobiles but there was one man that set out to him. His hair was a light shade of brown and quiffed up to perfection. He had broad shoulders and a perfect posture and when he turned and Harry’s eyes found the man’s eyes, Harry could have sworn he gasped.

The man had stunning blue eyes and his facial structure was perfect. He looked like a model in a magazine that all the girls – and blokes – would squeal over and want to have his posters everywhere and take pictures with him, maybe even get a signature.

Harry walked past the man, his head down so he didn’t make eye contact again. Right before he passed the man, though, he heard someone ask a question.

“Would you mind getting me another coffee, love? I’m not properly awake and my legs are tired,” the voice came from the side of him. He turned his head to look and came to the conclusion that it came from the beautiful man with stunning blue eyes and a model-like face.

“Um – sure?” Harry replied, taking the money that the stranger handed out to him, “What do you want?”

“Just coffee, I have sugar right here already so I don’t need any,” he replied, motioning to the stack of sugar he had resting beside his empty cup of coffee.

Harry smiled, “Okay,” and then went up to the counter, ordering a plain coffee for the stranger and one for himself. He went bring the man his coffee, and before he left he was interrupted by yet another beautiful voice asking him something.

“Would you like to sit with me?” the man asked, sweetly. He looked cautious – like he was ready for Harry to throw coffee on him and call him a creep and tell him that he shouldn’t even be talking to him because he was a stranger.

But Harry liked beautiful things – especially people – so he smiled and sat down across from the beautiful man and took a sip of his coffee, grimacing because he hadn’t put any sugar in it.

“Here, you can have some of my sugar if you want,” the man smiled, handing Harry a pack of sugar.

“Thank you,” Harry said, taking the sugar from his outstretched hand.

“No problem,” he smiled at Harry. Harry went to open the sugar and then failing, noticing that there was something quite sticky on the outside and making it extremely difficult to open and hold.

“Oh, damn it, I must have spilt some of my coffee on the sugar,” the man frowned, going to sort through the other packs, “it’s on all of them!” he exclaimed, disappoint in his voice.

“It’s okay, I’ll go get some from over there,” Harry motioned to the cart with the extras – sugar, milk, etc. – on it.

The man smiled, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault you’re all sticky now.”

Harry smiled at him, “I’ll just go wash my hands, yeah? I’ll be back in a minute.”

The man smiled and nodded. Harry stood up, walking to the bathroom and washing his hands – soaping them up and washing them off until there was no trace of coffee or anything equally sticky on his hands or fingers. He dried his hands, making sure that there was no water left because he remembered last time he’d had wet hands from washing them and went to pick up his cup at dinner and it had spilt everywhere because it slipped from his grip and he definitely did not want that to happen in the middle of Starbucks when he’s supposed to be getting on a plane in an hour.

He walked out of the bathroom, walking back to the table where his coffee was perched and the beautiful man was seated, grabbing two packets of sugar when he passed by the cart.

When he sat back down, the man smiled at him, “I’m really sorry, you know.”

Harry laughed, “Don’t be, it was a mistake, it’s perfectly okay.”

“I’m Louis, by the way,” the man – Louis – said after a while.

Harry smiled, “Harry.” He opened the packet of sugar, spilling it into his coffee cup and stirring it until he couldn’t see one grain of sugar left.

He took a sip, testing it. It tasted funny – almost like he’d put salt in the coffee rather than sugar and he checked the packet, just in case. He frowned when he read it said “SUGAR” in big blue letters with a white background.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked from across the table, observing him.

Harry looked up from his coffee, blinking – his vision was getting heavy, like his eyelids were starting to close on their own and he hadn’t slept in forever.

“Nothing,” he did his best to smile and act like he was worried, but he felt – odd. His head was starting to feel heavy and his eye lids were drooping more. His mouth felt fuzzy and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. He concluded that it was probably just his lack of sleep catching up on him and took another sip of his coffee, hoping that the caffeine would sink into his body and brain soon enough and he’d be wide awake and ready for his flight.

“Are you okay?” Louis asked worriedly, obviously catching onto Harry’s sudden weirdness.

Harry’s eyes were drooping even worse now – barely staying open and he had to fight to keep them the slight bit cracked they were, “No, I dunno – I dunno what’s – I dunno what’s wrong… wrong with me,” he fought to get out, his mouth not working right. He felt too tired to talk and he felt too tired to even breathe.

“Harry? Do you want me to bring you to your mum or whoever you’re with?” Louis asked, panic filling his voice.

Harry forced a nod, his eyes falling shut.

“Where are they?” Louis asked, standing up and helping Harry get up.

“S-seating a-area,” Harry stuttered, his head was heavy and lolling to the side so far that he was sure if he didn’t pick it up, it’d fall off. His legs were working and his eyes wouldn’t open again and he didn’t know what was going on.

“Alright, don’t panic, yeah? Just – let the feeling wash over you. Don’t fight it,” Louis’s calming voice whispered into his ear and then everything went black and he didn’t feel anything.


	2. Chapter One (part one)

When Harry forced his eyelids open, he had no recollection of the previous events. The last thing he remembered was passing out and Louis telling him he’d take him to his mum. He looked around and noticed that it was pitch black and wondered if maybe he was in the hospital – but, no, it wouldn’t be pitch black if he was in the hospital. There would be lights from the machines and hallways peering into the room and there would be windows.

He started to panic, trying to sit up but failing. He groaned; his head still felt heavy like someone had cut it open and placed rocks inside where his brain was supposed to be.

He, steadily, rolled over and onto his side, trying to see if he could tell where he was. He couldn’t tell where he was or what was surrounding him from the darkness of the room (or whatever he was in) he was in was.

As he became more awake, snippets of memories of the previous times he was awake for a small amount of time came rushing back to him.

———-

“Harry? Harry, are you awake love? Move something if you’re awake, okay?” Louis’s voice rang through his ears. He wiggled one of his fingers the best he could, still drowsy and unable to control his body from the previous moments.

“Good, good. I need you to put this on for me, yeah? It’s just a change of clothes, you wet yourself love,” Louis cooed into his ear, helping him strip out of his clothes and helping him put on a new change of clothes. His eyes were cracked open and even though he was desperately trying to force them open all the way, he couldn’t.

“Alright, do you think you can open your eyes for me love?” Louis asked sweetly.

Harry groaned and tried opening his eyes more, but couldn’t get them to open any farther.

Louis rubbed his shoulders as if to calm him and tell him he could stop trying, “It’s alright. It probably hasn’t worn off completely yet. Don’t strain yourself darling. Okay I’m going to lift you up, yeah? And I’m going to put you into the back of my car, okay?”

Harry tried nodding, but just like the rest of the things he tried to do, he couldn’t. If he didn’t feel so lifeless he’d be frustrated right now.

He felt Louis’s hands lock underneath his arms, dragging him up and placing him down on a seat, “There you go darling. Now just stay put, yeah? Let me know when you get feeling back in the rest of your body.”

Harry heard the close of a door, guessing that Louis closed the door to the back seat of his car and then heard a door opening, then closing again. The car started when Louis put the key in the ignition and then all Harry heard was the sound of tires moving and Louis humming to himself.

He started to panic then. Why was he in this strange man’s car? Wasn’t he supposed to take him to his mum?

The more he thought, the more he remembered the fact that he had no feeling in his body and could barely move or open his eyes all the way – that thought scared him more.

———

He had started getting the feeling in his face and upper body back, could finally open his eyes all the way and push himself up until he was sitting.

“Where- where are we going?” he asked carefully.

Louis turned around to look at Harry, “I see you’re feeling better now, yeah?”

Harry forced a smile, “Yeah. Where are we going?”

“You missed your flight. I found your phone in your pocket earlier when I noticed you had an accident and I dialed your mum and she told me to bring you home and she’d reschedule you a flight for tomorrow because I told her about how you passed out in Starbucks. Are you okay, by the way?” Louis asked, concern flooding his face.

Harry frowned. He was extremely confused – why would his mum have left the airport without him? Surely she wouldn’t ever leave without him, she knew how much he enjoyed going see his family and he knew that she would never leave him anywhere by himself, even if it meant missing an airplane flight.

So was Louis lying to him?

———

The more he let himself think, the more he was coming up with dramatic ideas.

The first scenario he’d made up was that Louis was kidnapping him. Which – it sounded maybe correct. But it couldn’t be; Louis was sweet and nice and handsome and young. Kidnappers were old perverts who liked to steal children for their own benefit.

But, his mind was starting to put ideas into his head and he was definitely starting to freak out. They had been in the car for an hour (Harry had been watching the time closely) and Harry’s house was only forty five minutes away from the airport. There was no way that Louis was bringing Harry to his house. How would Louis know where he lived anyway?

Louis looked at him from the rearview mirror, noticing Harry fidgeting.

He pulled over to the side of the road and turned around, “Are you okay?” he asked Harry.

Harry made eye contact for not even a split second and then looked away at the door, thinking about maybe jumping out because he was definitely not okay.

Suddenly, he heard the slam of a door and then the trunk of the car was opened and Louis was digging in it, looking for something. Harry thought that maybe this was his perfect time to go – Louis was occupied, and even if Louis wasn’t kidnapping him or something, he definitely wasn’t bringing Harry back to his house and the thought of the different things that Louis could be planning to do to Harry made him definitely not want to be in this car at this very moment.

But before he could jump out of the car door, like he was planning quickly in his head, the backdoor opened and Louis appeared. He was holding a white towel and before Harry could ask what it was, Louis placed it roughly over his mouth and everything went black again.

———-

The last thing he remembered was Louis stopping to wake him up and make sure he was okay again, changing his clothes because he’d wet himself.

“A-are you gonna kill me?” Harry asked once his body had woken up. Whatever was on the towel that Louis had shoved in his face wore off faster than the last thing that he was positive by now that Louis had drugged him with. He was trying not to cry, fear taking over all his senses.

“No, I want to show you a life you could have. A life with me. I want to show you paradise. Can I do that, Harry?” Louis asked, smiling softly at Harry.

Harry flinched, “I- where are we? What are you going to do with me?” Harry was panicking now, all the rules he’d been taught when he was younger about what to do and what not to do if someone were to ever take you escaping his mind and not being his top priority.

“I just want to show you a good life,” is all Louis replies with and then he takes the white towel out again and Harry kind of wishes that he’d maybe just kill him and get it over with.

———-

The feeling in Harry’s body starts coming back to him and he feels around the dark space, trying to feel for walls. All he can feel is something soft, which he’s guessing is a bed, which is strange because he last remembers being in a car.

His hand hits air once he goes too far and he almost falls off of the bed he’s perched on. He feels against the edge, feeling his way until he’s off of the bed and then tries his best to find a door or something.

His hand hits what he assumes is the wall and he trails his hand down until he finds the corner where two walls meet. He follows the second wall and then finally finds a door, opening it and his eyes being flooded with light.

When his eyes adjust to the bright light, he notices that he’s in a hallway and it’s connected to a living room where he can see Louis sitting in a chair and sleeping.

He thinks, this is my chance to make a run for it and tip toes as quietly as he can past the living room. He looks for the front door, failing after a while of finding it. Whatever house he’s in is huge. It’s probably bigger than any building he’s ever been in and he wonders if the house is underground (or maybe if just the part he’s in is underground) because he hasn’t seen not one window yet and it scares him.

When he sees a door in the short distance, he moves to walk straight towards it, prepared to leave and never come back. He isn’t sure if Louis is just mad or mental or both but he has no intentions of staying with him like Louis would like him to do.

Before he can even get halfway to the door, though, he hears someone clear their throat.

“Good morning,” Louis’s voice comes from behind him and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, tries to control himself so he doesn’t break down and cry because he’s lost his chance now and Louis might rape him – might already have – or kill him or torture him or something and now he won’t be able to leave.

“Morning. Where are we?” Harry asks, turning around and peering at Louis through his eyelashes.

“I can’t tell you that love. But if you were trying to leave, I wouldn’t do that unless you have a death wish,” Louis informs him.

Harry flinches and wants to maybe run and hide because what does that mean? Is he saying that if Harry tries to leave he’s going to kill him? Harry isn’t sure if that makes him want to leave more or less now.

Louis frowns, “I’m not going to kill you if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re in the middle of a desert. You wouldn’t get too far before you died of thirst and heat or from stepping on something poisonous or getting bit by something out there.”

Harry bites his lip because he can feel himself starting to cry, “I want to go home,” he says, voice broken off. He has to stare at the ground or the tears will start to come and he’s not going to cry – he’s not.

“I’ll take you home if you still want to go in three months, yeah?” Louis says – asks – and then comes up to Harry to hug him, maybe hold him tight to his chest and that’s exactly what Harry needs – some loving – but he flinches away anyway and starts walking back to the room he was in.

Louis doesn’t call after him.

———

He sits in the room for a total of two days, not coming out for food or water and leaving the door locked to have Louis sitting outside of it and beginning for him to just “eat, please Harry just eat and drink something, yeah? I’m not having you die on me, Harry.”

But he doesn’t want to eat – doesn’t want to even drink. He’s terrified that Louis has slipped something in the food or water again like he did at Starbucks and he doesn’t want to have that feeling again, doesn’t want to be helpless or sleeping, really, because he’s terrified of what Louis will do to him. Harry can tell that maybe Louis isn’t going to hurt him, though, because he hasn’t tried getting inside of the room that much isn’t worried about what Harry may be doing in the room, is only worried about him eating and his heath and making sure he doesn’t die.

But that still isn’t an exception and Harry refuses to eat or drink anything until Louis brings him home.

——-

“Harry, please eat, yeah? If you’re starving yourself to spite me, please don’t. Please eat, it’s been three days, you’ve got to be hungry or thirsty or something,” Louis begs through the door. Harry stares at the door like if he looks hard enough the door will transform into some body guard or something and will keep Louis away from him.

“I’m not eating until you bring me home,” Harry yells through the door. He’s starving, though. His stomach growls almost every five seconds and it’s getting louder and it’s starting to sound like it’s beginning Harry to just fucking eat something.

He’s not thirsty, though. There’s a bathroom connected to his room and he’s been going in there and drinking the faucet water and keeping himself hydrated because after he went a whole day of not drinking he kept feeling light headed and he found out he can’t go very long without water.

He lies back in bed, tracing the three notches he’d scratched into the bedpost to show how long he’s been here. He wants to keep up so he knows when three months is up, so he knows that he’s definitely going home and has something to look forward to everyday when he adds another one and gets closer and closer to the set date.

If he lives until then, that is.

———

“Harry, if you don’t eat today I’m going to open this door and force you to eat,” Louis says the next day when Harry still blatantly refuses to eat any of the food that Louis tries giving him.

Harry calls bluff, he knows that if Louis could get into the room he’d have gotten in the room already, so he doesn’t worry about it, and refuses to eat still.

Everything goes quiet for a minute and Harry figures that Louis has probably finally given up and has left to go do whatever it is that he does when he leaves from trying to get Harry to eat.

But then there’s the sound of a key in a lock and Harry panics momentarily. Does Louis have a key?

His question is answered when the door is flung open and Louis comes into view holding a tray with a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water on it.

Louis closes the door behind him and walks towards Harry, placing the tray of food on the side table. He sits down on the bed and Harry pushes himself as far away from Louis as he can get.

Louis flinches, “I know you probably don’t like me right now, but please eat? For yourself, not for me. And if you don’t want to eat for yourself, think about your mum and family and eat for them, yeah? Please.”

Harry looks away from Louis, staring at the wall. Louis sighs and gets up and the last thing Harry hears is the click of a shut door and footsteps walking away.

He looks at the food and his stomach growls; he groans and contemplates if maybe he should just eat. He’s almost positive that Louis didn’t put anything in his food or the water but he didn’t even give the thought of Louis putting anything in his drink the first time at Starbucks any thought so he wasn’t sure what to believe.

He wipes a hand over his face and bites his knuckles, then grabs the bottle of water off the tray and opens it, taking a big, long gulp from the container. It wasn’t opened until he opened it. He could tell it wasn’t because of how hard it was for him to get it opened – but maybe that was because he was equally week from not eating much.

He grabbed the sandwich off of the tray and took a bite. Taking one tiny bite turned into taking big bites that turned into devouring the whole sandwich in less than a minute if he was counting. Lastly, he ate the perfectly red apple. He felt full and sleepy but he had so much energy.

He went to the door of the bedroom that he was occupying and slowly opened it, careful not to make any noise. He didn’t want Louis to hear him opening the door and then feel like Harry was coming out to hang out with him and that Harry trusted or liked him now, because that wasn’t the case. Harry had energy now, enough to venture the house and maybe find the front door and go outside, see what outside even looked like.

He poked his head out of the door, searching to see if he could see Louis’s figure anywhere around the vacancy of the hallway. He didn’t see any trace of the older man, so he decided it was safe to venture out of his room. He walked through most of the house, not seeing any trace of Louis anywhere in the house. He figured that maybe Louis went outside of maybe there was another level of the house, he was downstairs after all.

He found the front door after what seemed like hours of searching with countless disappointments. He opened the door, slowly – he was still afraid that maybe Louis was outside of the door and waiting for him and he’d punish Harry when he’d noticed Harry was trying to escape again. He stuck his head out, slowly, noticing that it was – in fact – a hallway that was leading to either another part of the already huge house or outside. He was hoping for it to lead outside so he could escape – if he could, that is. He didn’t – wasn’t – want to stay here anymore no matter if Louis wanted him to or not. He didn’t know Louis and he was almost positive Louis didn’t know him, so why did Louis want him to stay with him?

He made it halfway down the hallway before he heard a voice.

“Harry, love, where are you going?”


	3. Chapter One (part two)

Harry turned on his heels at the sound of the voice behind him.

“Just – looking around?” Harry tried; he hoped it made him seem less obvious of trying to escape.

Louis smiled, “Why didn’t you come find me? I could show you around, if you want.”

Harry thought about that for what seemed like centuries. Should he let Louis show him around? If he did, he might get a better view on the house and find out where he is and how he can leave.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Harry replied, smiling. He made sure his dimples showed and he hoped Louis was as gullible as Harry saw him in his head.

“Alright, where to first love?”

———

Louis had given him a tour of the whole downstairs portion of the house, making sure that Harry knew every aspect of every inch of every room. He showed Harry where all the food was located so that if he got hungry in the middle of the night, he could help himself. He showed Harry where the books and movies were if Harry ever got bored and where the telly was so that he could watch the movies that were available if he didn’t feel like reading.

Then, they were walking up a narrow staircase to what Harry assumed to be the upstairs portion of the house.

“This is where I sleep,” Louis said once they were upstairs. There was only one room, with a bathroom connected to it. The one room had a – very comfortable looking – blue sheeted bed and fluffy pillows. The bed was much bigger than Harry’s bed in his room and it looked way more inviting than Harry’s did. Harry felt jealous all of a sudden. Why didn’t he get this perfect, soft bed? Then he remembered that he was finding a way out of here as soon as possible and the jealousy sunk down, deep inside of him, locked away to never come back out.

The room also had a bookshelf with tons of tons of more books than the bookshelf downstairs had. There was also a dresser across from the bed with a small telly perched on top with a Blu-ray DVD player on top.

“Why isn’t your room downstairs like the rest of the rooms?” Harry asked, curiously.

Louis smiled, “I like the view. This is the only room with windows, because it’s the only room above ground. The outside is quite beautiful and when I read I like to look out the window.”

“Why is the downstairs underground?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Louis hummed, “This place used to be where a lot of wars happened. The people that built it made this room to where it looked like it was the only room and hid the door to the downstairs portion underneath the bookshelf. So when people would raid the houses, they would hide downstairs and no one could find them. This place has a lot of history and it’s beautiful, innit?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harry replied. He didn’t want to say anything that might make Louis mad – but he didn’t think anything about this house was “beautiful.” Sure – it was nicely built and the furniture was fancy, but he had no intention of liking this place anytime soon.

Louis smiled a small smile, “Yeah. Do you want to see outside?”

Harry’s face lit up involuntarily – maybe while outside, he could decide on what was a better way to escape. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Louis smiled a genuine, happy smile, “Great.”

Louis walked towards the door that Harry had thought was the bathroom. He was confused momentarily – why was Louis going to the bathroom? He was supposed to be taking Harry outside. But then Louis opened the door and Harry noticed that it wasn’t a bathroom after all and it was actually the door that led outside.

“Is this the only door to get outside?” Harry asked, walking towards the door. If it was the only door to get outside, he had a problem, considering the door was in Louis’s room and Harry was almost positive that Louis spent most of his time in his bed room.

Louis turned, “Yeah, why?”

Harry bit his lip, “Just asking.”

———-

Harry had to admit – the outside of the house was actually quite beautiful and breathe taking.

Outside of the house, there was a huge expanse of crispy, green grass and trees scattered in the distance. The only building in sight was a building not too far away from the house. Harry wondered if someone lived there – he prayed silently that someone did, maybe they would help him.

“Does someone live in that house?” he asked Louis, pointing in the direction of the building.

Louis laughed slightly, and then shook his head, “No. That’s the barn. I keep all the canned food I can’t fit in the house there and all the barrels of water I have. Also, that’s where I keep the chickens and…”

He stopped, trailing off as if he was about to tell a secret that was only for him and no one else’s ears to hear.

“And what else?” Harry asked, excitedly. Maybe Louis kept a car there or a phone, because Harry had looked everywhere for a phone and couldn’t find one anywhere. He had planned to call the cops if he’d found one, but fate hasn’t been on his side for what seems like forever.

Louis shrugged, looking at the ground, suddenly embarrassed, “Just – I draw and I have a room to draw in.”

Harry perked up, his whole life he loved drawing – whether it be simple things like stick people or animals or the real stuff like canvases and actual people. He liked writing, too.

“Can I see?” he asked, excitedly. If he was going to be here longer, he might as well find something he’d actually enjoy to occupy his time.

Louis looked up at Harry, studying his face. He cocked his head to the side, most likely contemplating if that was a good idea or not.

Louis sighed, “Would that make you happy?”

Harry nodded.

“Would you like this place a little better, then? Like… me a little better?” Louis asked Harry quietly.

Harry bit his lip. He was sure that nothing would make him like Louis better – not even if he were to return Harry to his home because Louis stole him and Harry could never like anyone that had the audacity to do something so cruel like that. But he wanted Louis to let him into the room because Harry missed drawing, he hadn’t drawn anything in months and suddenly he craved drawing – or painting – more than anything.

“I could try to,” Harry replied. He didn’t want to lie to Louis and technically he wasn’t lying. If he was going to be stuck with Louis – because he had a feeling he wasn’t going to find a way away from Louis anytime soon – then he might as well get along with him and like him.

Louis nodded, “I guess that’s better than a no. Follow me, love.”

———

Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting the inside of the barn to look like, but it definitely wasn’t like this.

The barn was equally as big as the house, if not bigger. There was a whole room of canned food, chips, things that wouldn’t expire from being out of a refrigerator and barrels of water. There was a whole room of chickens and hay and food for the chickens. Then, there was the painting/drawing room.

It was beautiful, if anything. Louis had made the wall his canvas and had paint splatters everywhere, lines of blues, reds, greens, etc. drawn over the floor and actual drawings drawn everywhere. It looked like a true artist room and it had Harry mesmerized.

“This is beautiful,” Harry told Louis. Harry had walked in the room and studied most of it, twirling around to look at the top of the walls and see the clouds peeking out from the room because there was no roof. He looked at all the cans of paint – it was like an endless supply – and all the canvases up against the wall and the bags that Harry figured were filled with paper and pencils and everything else you would need to draw or paint or do anything equally artistic with.

“I’m glad you like it,” Louis replied. Harry turned to look at the older man standing in the doorway, watching him. Louis was smiling so big and bright Harry was sure his face had to hurt. Harry felt a pang of butterflies tickling his insides at the view. He suddenly felt good about himself for making Louis this happy and he hadn’t even done much of anything.

“I just – this is great. Really. Can I – can I draw in here?” Harry asked. He knew Louis would probably tell him no, it was his drawing room after all and things like that were for only one person to enjoy and not anyone else.

So he was surprised when he heard a reply of, “That’s why I’m showing you it, isn’t it?”

Harry smiled, “Thank you, really. This is – this is great.” He wasn’t sure why he was thanking Louis – Louis had, after all, taken him from his family and friends and Harry would probably never get to see them again, but it felt appropriate. He felt happy and he actually hadn’t felt this way for a while.

He wondered if maybe Louis had known that and that’s why he took him away.


	4. chapter two

Over the next hour, Harry sits in the drawing room by himself, splattering paint all over the walls and smiling because he missed this. He missed the fun and pure joy he gets out of doing anything that has to do with painting or drawing. He missed feeling like he had no problems in the world and he missed being carefree about anything and everything.

He missed living like he wants to.

After Harry had turned thirteen (the official age of a teenager), his parents had cracked down, not caring much about him anymore, and making sure that his life was a living hell. He was forced into a private school, leaving all his mates (and his former girlfriend [who, at the time, he’d thought he was helplessly in love with]), and all his fun at school behind. At thirteen, he was forced to grow up and had to put behind his passion for drawing and playing and having fun to prepare himself for being an adult.

His parents had stopped caring about him, setting a curfew for him and only paying him any mind whenever he was late for said curfew (which was a roughly eight o’clock on weekdays and ten on weekends). For the first few years of his teenaged life, he spent his extra time locked up in his room. He didn’t want to go outside and hang out with the people his parents wanted him to, he’d wanted to be with his friends from his old school and not worry about everyone judging him on every move he’d take.

When he was sixteen, he’d started going outside. He’d made friends with the most popular group of the school, the people his parents would have wanted him to befriend, saying how posh and well-mannered they were (but they weren’t, not really). That’s when he’d started being late for curfew, picked up a bad habit of smoking, and was decidedly home schooled. He looks back and thinks if maybe he hadn’t started hanging out with them, hadn’t become this person who figured everyone liked him and no one would do him wrong, if he’d be in this place now.

He was always taught not to talk to strangers, he was. He looks back to when his parents actually cared, when they’d hold his hand in public and tell him not to talk to the people he didn’t know, when they reminded him on a daily basis that not everyone is nice and sweet and how they’re looked out to be. He looks back to when he’d actually listened to that and thinks that maybe he should have had his mum there, to care, and tell him “don’t talk to the strange, beautiful boy sitting there all alone, Harry. Not everyone is like they’re looked out to be,” but she wasn’t.

———-

“It’s starting to get dark, maybe you should come back to the house now?” Louis’s voice sounds from behind Harry.

Harry doesn’t turn, keeps his focus on the lyrics that he’s scribbling onto the wall.

“If you really want to stay out here I could bring you a lantern? You won’t be able to see otherwise when the sun goes completely down,” Louis pesters.

Harry turns, “I don’t want to come back to the house. I don’t want a lantern. I don’t want to be here.”

Louis frowns, “I thought you said if I let you paint, you’d try to like me more. That comes with the role of being nice.”

“How can I be nice to someone so terrible like the likes of you?” Harry screams, questioning. He wants to know how Louis could think that Harry could like him, be nice to him, when he’s drugged him and booted him somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

Louis sighs, “My purpose isn’t to be so terrible, you know. I’m trying to fucking help, Harry. You could at least act like your happy… I know your not – okay? I know you think I’m horrible because I’ve taken you away from your family – a family that doesn’t even care about you, I’ll remind you that – but can you look at this like it’s a – a vacation or something? It’s not that terrible here, and if you’d give me and the place a chance, you’d fucking see that!”

Louis turns to leave, doesn’t even look back. Harry lets the words sink into his skull, run through his veins.

He doesn’t tell Louis to wait.

———

He stays in the barn until it’s completely dark and he can’t even see his own hands.

He thought that maybe since there was no roof in this part of the room, that maybe he would still be able to see with the florescence of the moon and the stars – but there is no stars and he’s almost positive there is no moon, either.

He gets up to leave, makes it to the door of the art room, before he starts running into walls and tripping over everything that he passes. He sees a small light from across the barn and thanks Louis for once because he left him a light and Harry’s bloody thankful for that because if not he’d probably never get out of here.

But the light starts moving towards him, getting closer until Harry can make out that Louis is attached to the light.

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to see anything,” Louis says loud enough for Harry to hear him through the distance that’s still between them.

“I don’t need your help,” Harry says back because the thought of Louis being right about something makes him feel the need to throw up.

“Harry, don’t be like that,” Louis says. Harry can’t see his face but he can tell that he’s frowning, frown lines indenting into his beautifully carved face and something inside of Harry says you don’t like the thought of him being upset but he tells that annoying, stupid part of him to shut up because he doesn’t care about Louis’s emotions.

“I’m not being like anything,” Harry persists, “I just don’t want your bloody help!”

He hears Louis sigh, “Fine then. But I’m leaving you the lantern whether you like it or not.”

He sees the light being placed down on the ground and he hears Louis’s light footsteps and then silence. He, carefully, starts walking towards the lantern laid down on the ground and picks it up, puts it in front of him and uses it while he walks out of the barn. He doesn’t run into anything anymore and can actually see his steps and he thinks that maybe he should thank Louis, but he won’t. There’s no reason to thank Louis because all of this is his fault, after all.

——-

When he’s safely out of the barn, he notices that the house is awfully far away. He doesn’t remember walking too much to get from the house to here.

He can still see Louis’s figure walking back to the house and he wonders if maybe Louis is happy again or if he still has a frown on his face. He gets the urge to run, see for himself, and if he is frowning do something to make Louis happy again.

He shakes himself. You don’t want him happy, he deserves to be miserable, he reminds himself, tells himself, making sure that he remembers that.

———

After he gets back to the house, he’s so knackered he thinks he could probably pass out on the porch.

He’s thirsty, though, and starving. He feels the need to eat and drink until he passes out and he hopes that Louis is up in his room and not anywhere downstairs so he can fix himself something to eat and drink. Then he remembers that he has to pass through Louis’s room to get downstairs to his part of the house and he groans because he’s not sure if he’d rather Louis in his room or downstairs. He figures whichever is easier to avoid him.

He walks inside and sighs because Louis isn’t in his room. But then he groans because that means he’s downstairs and if he’s downstairs he’ll see Harry eating and drinking and he’ll think that Harry’s given in and given up and he’s going to stop protesting, which he’s not. Or maybe he is.

He goes to the door to show the staircase for him to get downstairs and opens it, walking down the stairs slowly and seeing if he can see Louis anywhere.

Sure enough, Louis is sitting in the dining room at the table with a plate and a drink in front of him and on the side of him there’s the same thing. Harry eyes it, wondering if Louis made it for him.

“It’s about time; I was giving you another half an hour before I went looking for you. I thought you might have left,” Louis says, not even looking up to see Harry at the bottom of the stair case.

“You don’t look like you were too worried about me running away,” Harry says.

Louis looks up, shrugging. “You wouldn’t get far.”

Harry wonders what he means by that, thinks that maybe one day he’ll find out – one day when he’s energized, has a sack of water and food with him and has the chance to leave without Louis noticing.

He walks towards the table, “This for me?” he asks. It’s obvious it is, since there’s no one but him and Louis for probably a thousand miles from here.

Louis nods, “I figured you’d be hungry. I saw that you’re finally eating, hopefully.”

Harry sits, eyeing the plate of spaghetti in front of him, “I got too hungry to fight it off this morning. I figured if you’d poisoned the food then it would be a good thing that I’d die.”

Louis doesn’t look up from his plate or say anything, but Harry notices the grip on his fork get tighter.

“I’m guessing that’s not what you want, though, right? You want me to suffer. Not die, that’s the easy way out,” Harry says, dragging the conversation out. He can tell it makes Louis uncomfortable for whatever reason, and he has his mind set on making Louis get aggravated with him and either bring him back home or kill him. Either would be perfectly suitable to Harry at this moment.

“No,” Louis says, voice hard, “is that what you think? That I want you to suffer and that I want you to want to die?”

Louis is looking straight at him now, face unreadable, and waiting for an answer from Harry.

Harry nods, “That’s how most kidnappers are, yes.”

Louis laughs, “But you’re not much of a kid, are you? So I couldn’t necessarily be called a kidnapper.”

“You drugged me and stole me away from my family, that’s definitely what kidnapping is,” Harry states. He wonders if Louis knows what he’s done is wrong. Maybe Louis is some psychopath who thinks that nothing he could ever do would be considerably wrong in any way.

“I took you away from a horrible family and took you here to help you have a better life. If you would open your eyes to that, you would see that I’ve done nothing wrong,” Louis says.

“Well, I’m pretty sure all the cops that are searching everywhere for me would say differently,” Harry says and then both of them are quiet, focusing on their food and eating and drinking.

When Louis is done he says, quietly, “Tomorrow – if you want – I want to show you something.”

Harry wants to ask what that something is, but before he can, Louis is walking to the kitchen and putting his plate in the sink and then walking upstairs to his room, leaving Harry confused and anxious and slightly excited.


	5. chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should have the rest of the chapters that are already written up sometime today :)

When Harry’s finished his spaghetti, he gets up to put his dishes in the sink and goes to the loo to take a shower. He hasn’t washed in his hair since the day before Louis took him because why should he have to worry about his hair anymore when he has no one left to impress? But his hair is getting greasy – and he’s pretty sure it’s extremely smelly and gross – and he’s pretty sure he definitely needs to wash it.

He makes sure there’s towels in the closet of the bathroom before he strips down and gets in the shower because how embarrassing would it be if he had to walk around the house naked and wet looking for a towel? There are a total of ten towels in the closet to the right of the shower and there’s shampoo, conditioner, and a variety of soaps beside them. There are also wash cloths and a loofa.

Harry grabs a towel and lays in out on top of the cabinet where the sink is, then grabs all the soaps he’ll need to clean himself for the shower.

When he’s done with cleaning himself up, he makes sure he washes all the soap off of him. He gets out and dries himself off, feeling unnecessarily clean and for a minute he wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Louis has a surprise for him tomorrow.

———

He gets dressed and goes to his bedroom, turning on the bedside light and sitting perched up against the headboard of the bed. He wonders for a minute whether if he’d give Louis a chance, if he’d like this place better. It’s nice here, he reasons, and at least he gets time away from his family (which at first, he’d thought was a bad thing, but now considering that he hasn’t smiled for a long, long time, he’s not finding being away from his family such a bad thing anymore).

But he doesn’t want to give Louis a chance, doesn’t feel the need to. Why should he give Louis a chance when he’s done something so terrible? And the thing is that he doesn’t even think what he’s done is so bad. He doesn’t think what he’s done is an ounce of bad and that thought makes Harry furious.

He grabs a pen that Louis had left for him with a notebook in the side dresser by his bed. He figures Louis wanted him to maybe keep a diary, a record of what happens on the days that he’s here. But for the first few days that he was here he thought the thought was ridiculous. He wouldn’t have much to write, would he? He’d end up writing the same thing most likely every day (I want to go home) and where’s the fun in that?

Harry gets an idea. Maybe he could write to Louis, use the little notebook as paper for letters. He’s almost positive that Louis checks the notebook, and if he does, then he’ll read over what Harry writes. His hands shake in anticipation. He wants Louis to understand why he hates him since apparently Louis doesn’t understand fully why Harry dislikes him so much. He uncaps the pen and starts writing.

Dear Louis,

I’ve decided to keep track of my time here and write my thoughts down in this journal for you to read. I’m almost sure that’s what you’ve been wanting me to do, isn’t it?

Ever since the first day I’ve had here… all I’ve wanted to know is why? Why did you take me? I know you’ve said something about wanting to show me paradise. But I don’t understand. Why did you have the sudden interest in a stranger? To show a stranger “paradise”?

I know you want me to like you. And I know you want me to enjoy my time here. But I don’t think that’ll happen. You seem to not understand that what you’ve done (taking me away from home and my family) is a bad thing. I don’t understand why you thought that I would appreciate what you’ve done, considering you’re a stranger who has drugged me and stolen me and done God-knows-what to me.

But maybe I can consider liking you more if I understand fully of why you’ve done exactly what you’ve done. I can’t help but to be curious and the more I strain myself to come up with answers to my questions, the harder the possibilities that I come up with seem likely. So, let’s compromise, yes? If you explain to me why you took me away, then maybe I’ll like you more. I know I’ve told you that if you let me paint in your paint room, that I’d like you more and I tricked you – but I didn’t. I don’t despise you as much as I did when I first came here (even though the thought of despising you less makes me sick).

Harry

He yawns, his tiredness from the day’s activities sinking in. He grabs the pen, carves a notch in the bed post to show another day he’s spent here with Louis, and then places the notebook on the side table with the pen on top. He turns the lamp off and lies down with his head in his hands and let’s his mind wander off to sleep.

———

When Harry awoke the next day, he remembered what Louis told him the day before. Tomorrow – if you want – I want to show you something.

His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of what Louis could possibly have left to show him. There wasn’t much that could be shown, considering there was miles and miles of grass past the house and the barn and Harry didn’t see anything past the barn other than an expansion of trees and bushes and grass.

He wondered if maybe if he were to get far enough through the expanse of trees, if there would be a small little town or a city or a street or anything that would lead him somewhere that would help him get home. But Louis wouldn’t show him something that would help him leave quicker, that was for sure.

Harry’s hope died in a pit in his stomach, clenching once more and then faltering.

He sat up in his bed and stretched. He felt like he’d slept longer than he did the whole time he was here and he figured he probably had, considering last night he had been exhausted from painting all day and walking.

He got out of bed and went to the loo, weeing quickly and then walking out into the living room. He was met with the strong smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen.

When he got to the kitchen, he saw Louis standing at the oven, clad in only a pair of tight, black boxer briefs that clung to his bum and his thighs. He was flipping crispy, brown pancakes in a pan.

When Louis turned his torso to place the ready pancake that he was working on into the plate on the counter beside him that was stacked high with pancakes, he saw Harry in the corner of his eye and jumped, causing the hot pancake to fly out of the pan and land on the floor.

Louis instinctively grabbed at his heart, breathing, “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!”

Harry couldn’t help but to let a small chuckle slip through his lips, “You know, it’s a proven fact that people only get scared when someone’s watching them because they’ve been doing something wrong.”

“Well, the fact that I’m half naked right now might have something to do with that,” Louis said, shrugging.

Harry furrowed his eye brows, “Being half naked is never a bad thing.”

After he’d said it, he noticed how much it sounded like he was flirting.

Louis cocked his head to the side, studying Harry. “Yeah, well. Um – do you want pancakes? Hopefully you do, because I’ve made about ten of them.”

“They look delicious,” Harry admitted, wondering why he was being so nice all of a sudden to Louis. He grabbed a plate from the table and grabbed three pancakes, dropping them onto his plate and then taking a seat at the table. He grabbed the syrup in the middle of the table, opening the top, and then pouring a decent amount of the sticky substance on top of his pile of pancakes.

When he went to grab for his fork and knife, he looked up and noticed that Louis was studying him.

“What?” he asked annoyance apparent in his voice.

Louis shook his head, “Nothing. You just seem like you’re in a pretty good mood today, is all. I like it.”

Harry looked down at his plate, going quiet. He wondered if maybe he was in a good mood today, but there was no reason for him to be in any type of mood other than a bad one because no matter what, he was still stuck here with Louis.

When Harry was on his third pancake, only a few big bites away from finishing it, Louis spoke up.

“So, did you give what I said last night a thought?” Louis asked.

Harry looked up, “About wanting to show me something? Yeah, I did. What could you possibly show me that I haven’t seen already?”

“There’s a lot of this place that you haven’t seen yet,” is all Louis gave him in reply. Harry sighed and finished eating the remainder of his pancake. Once he was done, he placed his plate and empty cup in the sink and started walking to his room.

“When I’m ready, I’ll come get you, yeah? That is, if you want to come with me,” Louis called after him before he was too far away for Harry to hear him.

Harry stopped walking and shouted back, “Yeah, okay,” and then continued walking to his room, sprawling his body out on top of the duvet.

What the bloody hell was Louis going to show him?

———-

Harry laid down on top of the bed for what felt like hours (and it probably was considering how long it felt), staring at the wall.

After a while, he sat up, stretching his limbs out on the bed and standing up. He heard his tummy make an upset growl and decided it was probably somewhere a little after lunch time and he was beginning to get hungry.

He walked into the kitchen, looking around and finding no signs of Louis anywhere. He didn’t know if that was a decidedly good thing or a bad thing.

He walked to the fridge, pulling out all the ingredients he’d need to make a sandwich and going to the cabinet to get the bread.

After making his sandwich, he sat down and ate it, wishing that he was younger again and at home and his mum was making the sandwich for him. His mum used to always cut his sandwiches into triangles, cutting the crust off and sometimes using the excess crust to make messages on top of his sandwiches (things like ‘I love you’ or ‘good afternoon’).

When he was finished with his sandwich, he dumped the dirty plate into the sink for Louis to clean later. He walked into the living room; half hoping that Louis would be sitting down on the sofa or in the chair by the book shelf. He wanted to ask Louis when and where he was going to bring him later, the thought never leaving his mind.

But of course, Louis wasn’t seated anywhere in the living room. Harry frowned, disappointed. He had half the mind to walk upstairs and see if Louis was in his room, but he was scared of what he would see if he did. He had no idea if Louis liked lying in bed naked or what he liked doing in his spare time (and he definitely had no plans on finding out, either).

He took a seat in the chair by the bookshelf, scanning the books on the shelf to see if they had anything that caught his eye. He had skimmed the bookshelf in his room once, finding nothing that interested him, but figured that maybe this bookshelf would have more interesting books. Most of the books on the shelf were mystery or romance and the thought of Louis reading a romance book made Harry want to laugh. Louis seemed like the kind of bloke that would prefer action in Harry’s point of view, considering all of what he knew of the older man.

He picked one of the books from the shelf, reading the title and then the back of the book’s cover for the summary. It sounded exciting and interesting (it was about a girl who fell in love with a ghost, Harry deciphered from the summary) so he flipped to the first page, getting lost in the book and reading.

———-

Hours passed before Harry heard the sound of a door opening and then closing, footsteps following suit after it.

He looked up from his book (which was actually a really good book and Harry was almost done with it) and saw Louis walking in, dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweat pants.

“Do you still want to come with me?” Louis asked when he noticed that Harry noticed his presence.

Harry shrugged, making himself look careless, “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

Louis stared at Harry for a few seconds before answering, “Outside.”

Harry frowned, “Outside? What’s so great about outside that you’re dying to show me?”

“I guess you’ll have to come with me and find out,” Louis answered with a smug look on his face.

“Cheeky,” Harry smiled, and then stopped himself. He wasn’t supposed to be smiling because of Louis.

“So,” Louis started, “are you going to come? It would be a shame for you to miss this. It’ll be great, I promise.”

Harry bit his lip, contemplating. He wanted to go, just to see what the hell was so exciting about outside that had Louis practically begging him to see.

He sighed, “Yeah, I guess. When are we going?”

Louis smiled, bright and happy, and Harry’s stomach gave a lurch, “Well, it’ll be getting dark in maybe about a little over a half an hour, so somewhere around then. It’ll have to be dark for you to see, so. Are you hungry? If we eat it’ll make time go by faster and it’ll be dark enough outside before we know it!”

Harry didn’t feel hungry, but at the word hungry his stomach gave a growl in sympathy. Louis smirked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What are you in the mood for?”

“Cheeseburgers,” Harry said without thinking. He hadn’t eaten a cheeseburger since he was thirteen. His parents thought they were ‘too fattening’ and ‘too greasy’.

Louis smiled, “Cheeseburgers it is!” Then began walking to the kitchen. He stopped halfway and turned to look at Harry, shyly, “Do you want to… maybe help me make them? I like making them from scratch and it’ll be easier if I have some help.”

He gave Harry a friendly smile at the end of his sentence and Harry smiled back. He liked cooking. Cooking was fun. Cooking was good.

“Sure,” he stated, getting up from where he was previously seated and walking towards Louis and the kitchen. At least if he was helping Louis cook he could be sure that Louis wouldn’t try to poison him or anything.

———

Somewhere towards the middle of fixing the hamburger patties, Harry starts smiling and actually enjoying himself. The fact of what Louis has done to him has slipped from his mind.

Louis smiles at him, nudging him with his elbow, “Do you think we should use some cookie cutters to make them in the shapes of something?” he jokes.

Harry giggles and has to move his hands from in the meat that he was kneading so he can use his wrists to cover his mouth and the outburst roar of laughter that escapes his mouth.

He shakes his head, “No! That would be silly!”

Louis smiles, “It’s fun to be silly once in a while,” he whispers and Harry notices that his eyes have trailed down to his lips. He starts remembering that Louis has kidnapped him (or teen-napped, whatever) and drugged him and he looks away, flustered at the thought that Louis may have wanted to kiss him. Louis clears his throat and looks back to the meat, kneading it into a perfect round circle while Harry does the same.

Everything goes quiet and tense and Harry swears to himself that he won’t let Louis look at him like that ever again.

——-

They eat their cheeseburgers in silence, an awkward atmosphere still heavy in the air.

After Louis is finished with his hamburger, he waits for Harry to be done with his, then brings both their plates and cups to the sink and cleans them off. Then he turns to Harry.

“So. I think it’s dark enough outside. At least it should be. Are you ready to find out what we’re doing?”

“Are you going to tell me now?” Harry asks, excited.

Louis laughs and shakes his head, “Nope. Gotta wait until we’re outside, mate.”

Harry flinches at Louis’s casual use of the word ‘mate.’ They definitely are not mates, not even in Louis’s twisted world.

He nods, “Well… let’s go then.”

Louis smiles, “Are you excited?”

Harry shrugs, “Dunno. I guess. I’m just curious as to what you could show me that I haven’t seen already.”

“You’ll be surprised,” Louis replied, then nods his head towards the stairwell and starts walking. Harry follows behind him, trying not to look at his bum. He may not like Louis, but he has to admit: that man has a bum to die for (and it drives Harry mad sometimes, because he wants to touch it but he can’t – he hates Louis, and hating someone does not mean you get to touch they’re bum; no matter how deliciously large it is).

When they get outside, it’s actually extremely dark. The only light out there is the little light that Louis grabbed from his bed room before they got outside and the shine from the moon’s light.

Louis grabs Harry’s wrist when Harry starts walking towards the left, “This way,” he says, nodding his head towards the right where a gate is that Harry hadn’t even ever noticed.

They walk towards the gate, not much distance between them because the light isn’t that bright and Harry’s scared that if he can’t see the ground then he’ll step on a snake or something.

When Louis opens the gate, Harry’s shocked. The back of the house has trees – has to be a million of them. But they aren’t normal trees that you would see every day at a park or the side of the road when you’re driving. They’re trees that Harry is sure don’t even exist.

The trees are so breathtakingly beautiful that they don’t look real.

They’re aren’t tall, only probably a foot and a half taller than Harry is and they’re branches stick out in the same direction all around and they’re all the same length on every single tree. All the leaves on every tree are a bright, vibrant green and they’re crispy and fresh. Some trees have fruits on them and some have flowers growing around the trunks. They all have little lights on the tree trunks (like Christmas lights you’d hang up on a Christmas tree) and they’re all different bright colors.

“Wow,” Harry breathes.

Louis smiles, puts the little light down on the pathway, “I’m glad you like it – but that isn’t what I’m showing you.”

Harry looks towards Louis, confused. What else could he possibly show him?

“Follow me, yeah?” Louis’s voice chimes in his ears and Harry nods, following after Louis. Louis walks through the trees, a small clearing in-between the trestle of trees.

The patch of grass is raised in a small hill and there’s a pond beyond it.

“When you lay on the hill – you can see the stars. They’re beautiful. Sometimes when I get lonely, I come out here and try counting them all,” Louis admits. It sounds like such a deep secret and Harry reminds himself he’s not supposed to like Louis, but his heart clenches in a way that makes him feel bad and makes him want to hug Louis and hold him close to his chest.

“Do you – do you want to look at the stars, Harry?” Louis asks. Harry looks up from where his eyes were glued onto the ground. Louis looks young – vulnerable – and Harry decides to forget all the wrongs Louis has done to him for the night and just enjoy this. Enjoy the stars with Louis.

“I’ve never really seen stars in person except for once,” Harry admits. He’s only ever been out of Holmes Chapel once – had went camping with a mate when he was younger – and in Holmes Chapel there are no stars. All there are is the moon and the deep black sky with the fluorescence of the street lights.

Louis smiles sadly, “You can see stars every night for the rest of forever, if you’d like.”

Harry ignores Louis’s comment, doesn’t want to even consider it, really. He just walks up to the hill, until his feet are almost touching the grass that’s starting the pond, and lies down. He rests his arms in a cross behind his head and leans up on them, looking up at the stars. He feels Louis lay beside him, but he doesn’t look. He’s too entranced with the stars.

They’re beautiful, really – even more beautiful than the trees or anything Harry has ever seen before. They’re bright and white and they shine and Harry feels himself smiling. They remind Harry of happiness and laughter and being young and he feels so happy and carefree all of a sudden.

When he’d seen the stars for the first time at age seven when he’d went camping with his best friend, Will, they looked nothing like this. There was only a few out that night – they weren’t even bright, not really.

He lets himself forget everything that’s ever happened to him, the only thing that matters at the moment to him is the stars and the fact that Louis has shown him something so beautiful.

He doesn’t think – just snuggles up into Louis’s side, ignoring the little “oh” Louis makes from surprise. Louis is uncomfortable and rigid at first, but then relaxes into the sudden loving gesture that Harry is giving him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s back.

They watch the stars, naming all the things they can make out of them for an hour, and then Harry starts to get tired. He doesn’t want to get up, though, wants to be right here – right now – forever, watching the stars. He doesn’t notice when Louis notices him falling asleep, his eyes closing and his brain shutting down and going into sleep-mode, and starts humming a beautiful tune to help him fall asleep, playing with the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

He also doesn’t notice the, “I hope your happy here now, love” that Louis whispers into the night air, holding Harry closer to his chest and falling asleep underneath the stars as well.


	6. chapter four

When Harry wakes up the next morning he’s in a bed that isn’t the one he’d been sleeping in for the past few days. He doesn’t open his eyes yet – doesn’t want to be awaken from the dream he was having previously – but he can tell that it’s much fluffier and a lot more comfortable than the one that was reserved for him in the downstairs portion of the household that Louis lives in.

He opens his eyes, sitting up. He’s suddenly aware that he’s most likely sleeping in Louis’s bed considering how nice it is and that there isn’t any other beds in the house other than his and Louis’s – well, at least that he’s aware of.

He looks around, and sure enough – he’s in Louis’s bedroom. Louis is nowhere in sight, the bathroom door wide open but the lights off. Harry wonders where he is.

He wants to thank Louis for showing him the stars, for showing him something that no one else would probably have bothered with, considering no one thinks stars are important (but to Harry, they are).

He stands up out of the bed, sighing happily when he notices he’s fully dressed in the attire that he had on the day previous (so he knows for sure now that Louis hadn’t drugged him last night and raped him or anything – unless he’d dressed Harry again after, which Harry doesn’t even want to think is a possibility because it makes his stomach on end).

He walks to the door to get to the stairwell and walks silently down the stairs. He wonders if Louis is upset that Harry fell asleep and he had to drag him inside, wonders if Louis might be waiting for him to wake up so he can beat the crap out of him or something and tell him to never fall asleep somewhere that isn’t his reserved bed ever again.

But when he gets downstairs he’s met to a happy-sounding Louis making what Harry figures is pancakes and humming a tune that Harry can’t quite figure out.

When Louis turns to grab his bottle of water from the counter, he sees Harry and jumps.

“You scared me,” Louis gasps, then regains his features, “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

Harry smiles, “Good… you’re not upset I fell asleep outside last night, right?” he asks, making sure.

Louis laughs, “No! It isn’t your fault you got sleepy. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Harry replies, sitting down at the table. He feels like ever since last night that he might not hate Louis as much as he had the days before (but he still dislikes him a great bit).

Louis smiles, flips the pancakes with his spatula, “I’m making chocolate pancakes. I hope you aren’t allergic to chocolate or anything.”

Harry bites his cheek, “Nah. I was when I was younger, though. I was allergic to a lot when I was younger.”

“I was allergic to hotdogs,” Louis admits, blushing like being allergic to hotdogs is the most ridiculous thing ever.

Harry giggles, “My sister was allergic to pizza, which sucked because pizza was my favorite food but we didn’t get it much since she was allergic.”

Louis turns his head over his shoulder so he can look at Harry, “Do you still like pizza?”

Harry nods, “Yeah – but it isn’t my favorite anymore. Once Gem got over her allergy for it, we ate it like twice a week because I begged our parents for it, so I’ve gotten sick of it a little over the years.”

Louis laughs, turning back to his pancakes, flipping them once more. “I can make pizza tonight if you want?”

“I’ve never made pizza before,” Harry admits. He knows Louis didn’t ask for him to help, but for some reason he’s hoping that he does. He wants to help, wants to know how fun it is to make pizza, tossing the dough in the air like he’s seen in so many movies.

Louis stacks the last chocolate chip pancake into the plate he has off to the side, piled high with pancakes he’d made previous, “You can help, you know. It’s fun… at least I think it is.”

Louis turns to face Harry with the plate and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle.

“Okay,” he says, and thanks Louis for the pancakes.

Louis smiles, goes to get plates and grab water bottles.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Louis tells Harry. Harry thinks that – yeah, he doesn’t.

When Louis comes back to the table, he sets down the plates and water and they begin to eat.

——-

After they eat, Harry excuses himself to take a shower. He feels gritty from being outside last night and not taking a bath before he fell asleep.

He decides to have a wank – he’s a teenage boy for Christ’s sake and he hasn’t wanked in days (which feels like centuries to him).

He trails his hand down his stomach, his cock half hard just from the thought of touching himself after going without it for so long. He fondles himself until he’s fully hard and panting.

He strokes himself once, thinking of his first and only girlfriend he’d had back home and all the porn he’s discovered in the past years. He thinks of girls with perky breast and long hair.

He’s on brink of orgasm whenever his thoughts start clouding over, changing to things that his mind actually wants to think of – not what he’s making himself think of.

He thinks of blue eyes and a big bum and a voice as sweet as chocolate whispering in his ear about nonsense and then he comes with a cry, spurting white hot streaks on his chest.

He washes himself off, feeling ashamed for getting off thinking about Louis. Louis, the person who stole him, the person who took him away from his family.

Louis, the person who’s so nice to him yet Harry’s such an arsehole. Louis, the bloke who let him paint in his painting barn and showed him the stars and strives to make Harry happy all the time.

He gets out of the bath tub, drying himself off and slinging the damp towel around his waist. He isn’t sure how there is so much clothes – that actually fit him – in his closet and drawers, but there is. He grabs a pair of black briefs and slips them on his slim hips then sits on top of the bed, grabbing the journal and pen from the side drawer and starts to write.

Dear Louis,

I feel like I haven’t shown you how happy showing me the stars last night made me. When I was younger, I’d only seen the stars once. You don’t see stars normally in Holmes Chapel. Ever since I’d seen them for the first time when I was 8, I’d wanted to see them again. So thank you for showing them to me. I’m starting to like it here a little bit more and I’m starting to actually enjoy myself while I’m here. I’m not entirely sure why, though, considering you have done something terribly bad by stealing me away (but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I haven’t smiled this much in years). Instead of stealing me though, you should have asked me to come away with you. I wouldn’t have been able to say no to someone so good looking.

Harry

Harry puts the book away on the side table and then gets up to slip on a shirt over his bare torso. It’s too hot to slip on sweat pants over his briefs, but he can’t very well leave his room half naked.

He ventures out into the living room and sees Louis sitting in his chair in the corner by the bookshelf, reading the book that Harry had read the day before.

Harry clears his throat, announcing his presence and making Louis look up.

“It’s really hot in here; can you turn the temperature down?” Harry asks Louis hoping that he’ll get a yes in return. While writing in his journal, he was sweating.

Louis frowns, “There isn’t a thermostat. But I have a fan in my room, you can go sit in there if you want?” he offers.

Harry shakes his head, “No thanks.”

“Why not?” Louis asks.

“I don’t want to sit in a room. I’m just generally hot. And anyway – if I were to go sit in your room… what would I be able to do? I’m sure there’s nothing of my interest in your room,” Harry says.

Louis bites his lip, “Your right about that. My room’s boring.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. Louis sounds… guilty about something.

“Do you have something hidden in your room?” Harry thinks out loud.

Louis’s eyes dart to the stairwell suspiciously then goes back to studying Harry, “No. There is absolutely nothing of interest in my room.”

“You’re lying,” Harry says. He’s always been fantastic at being able to tell when someone’s lying and telling the truth.

Louis licks his lips, “And how do you guess that I’m lying?”

Harry shrugs, “I can just tell. What’s in there that you don’t want me seeing – or snooping through?”

“If there was anything that I didn’t want you to find – why would I have let you sleep in there last night? Or why would I have even suggested that you go up to my room in the first place?” Louis asks.

Harry lets it sink in and feels immediately dumb.

He slumps his shoulders, “You have a point there. Alright, well I guess I’ll go in there because it is rather hot down here. Do you mind if I take a nap up there?”

Louis shakes his head, “No, you can take a nap. That’s perfectly fine.”

Harry smiles and Louis smiles back in return. He walks towards the stairwell, walking up to Louis’s room. He definitely isn’t taking a nap – that’s for sure.

He’s going to find out what Louis doesn’t want him finding.

———

Once he’s in Louis’s room, he sits on the bed for a minute and thinks about what he could possibly find in Louis’s room that would be hidden. The fan is on and on top of a shelf by the bed and Harry gets an instant idea.

He looks in the drawers on the shelf, not finding much but notebooks and pens and books that are ratty most likely from all the times Louis has read them.

He picks up one notebook, opening it to the first page and reading what’s written.

10 August 1997

Today while I was walking to pick up Lottie from Brooke’s house – I saw this boy. He looked at least eleven – maybe twelve. He was playing at the park in Brooke’s neighborhood and he was smiling so much. He looked genuinely happy and just seeing him so happy made me happy. If I hadn’t had to rush to go get Lottie, I probably would have went up to him and talked to him. But I had to go get Lottie from Brooke’s house and get home before mum was done with dinner. I hope I see him again sometime and have enough courage and time to talk to him.

Love Louis xx

Harry bit his lip – was the boy Louis was talking about… him? He flipped to a few pages later.

21 September 1997

I saw him again for the first time. The bloke that I had talked about that I’d seen at the park. He was at the candy shop with a girl with blonde hair and a bloke with black hair. They were licking lollies and talking. The girl had said something and he laughed. His laugh – it was so beautiful. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. I watched them from a few feet away at one of the benches outside of the candy shop and I think he saw me. I looked away when he turned around though. I remember how fast my heart was racing at the thought that I’d been caught staring. He looks so much younger than me – but he’s cute and his smile is bright and his laugh is perfect. I’ve read somewhere that when you have a crush on someone, you get butterflies when you think about them. I quite like the feeling of butterflies that he gives me.

Love Louis xx

2 April 2000

I saw him today. He was by himself. I wanted to go talk to him because he looked so sad. But I was so afraid. He looked like he’d been crying for hours and hours. I wanted to hug him and kiss him until he smiled and laughed his beautiful laugh – but I’m such a coward. I hope this is the only time I ever see him sad. He’s too beautiful to ever be anything other than happy.

Love Louis xx

Harry flips through a few other pages, skimming them and reading what Louis had written about that day. Every page was something about Harry and every page after the second of April in 2000 was about how sad and different Harry was.

He closes the journal, picking up a different one out of the drawer and reading through it from the first page.

Day one

When I saw him in the Starbucks airport I was so nervous. I knew that he’d be there – considering how thorough I made sure my plan was – but when I had seen him… I think my brain finally understood the fact that I was going to talk to him and he was going to actually acknowledge my presence. He was so nice to me, though. He went by the plan and his voice was so much deeper than I’d remembered it to be. When the drugs had finally kicked in, he’d started freaking out and asking me to bring him to his mum – so I told him I was. I brought him to my car, though, and he had a little… accident. When I started to change him – I had to control myself. His body… he’s only sixteen and yet he has such a nice six pack. He has four nipples, too, and it really shouldn’t be that hot – but it is. He started waking up, though, when I had started putting his clothes back on. When we got to the house I found for us to stay in – I could just feel that he hated me. I would hate me, too, if I were him. I cried for a long time after he shut himself in his room.

Louis xx

Day Three

He still hates me. I told him I had a surprise for him tomorrow. I hope he wants to come. I think he’d enjoy it. I plan to show him the stars. They’re so beautiful – just like him. I don’t know why I thought that if I took him here he’d like me. For some reason I thought that if I’d brought him here he’d end up – I don’t know. Maybe sleeping in my bed with me and cuddling with me. Maybe even kissing me. I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to, though. Forcibly making him love me isn’t an option for my happiness.

Louis

Harry closes the book, not wanting to read anymore. He feels like he can feel Louis’s pain, feels like he can see Louis’s point of view of things now that he’s read some of his writings in his journal. He places the notebook back in Louis’s drawer and then goes to Louis’s bathroom. He turns the light on and turns the tap on, splashing water on his face.

He’s starting to not hate Louis.

And the only other emotion he can feel towards the older man is love. And he isn’t supposed to love someone who’s stolen him away from his home… is he?


	7. Chapter five

Harry lay in Louis’s bed relishing the air for a few moments before promptly standing up and walking back downstairs. He felt uncomfortable now that he’d read something so personal written by Louis – something so sweet.

When he got halfway down the staircase he could see Louis still sitting in the chair beside the bookshelf, nose buried in the book he was reading previous and his eyes trained on the page reading word for word. He was concentrating on the book as if he’d let himself blink too much or even breathe too hard the words would jumble up and he’d have to put them back into their place.

“Is that good?” Harry asked, curious to see if Louis enjoyed the book half as much as Harry had. Louis didn’t look up from the book, didn’t even flinch. Harry wondered if the older man had even heard him.

“Well?” he asked, just a little louder and closer to Louis now.

Louis flinched, almost dropping the book in his wake, and looked up. “Jesus Christ, you keep scaring the shit out of me. I bet you were a handful for your mum.”

Harry laughed – he’d actually never succeeded in scaring his parents when he’d tried, let alone when he wasn’t trying at all – and shook his head, “Not really. They never paid enough attention to me to be scared of anything I’d do.”

Louis bit his lip, not commenting.

“Uh,” Harry says, “I’d asked you a few seconds ago if the book was good. I don’t think you heard me, though.”

Louis chuckled a bit, “No – I actually really didn’t. This book is literally so fascinating. I don’t think I would have noticed the house burning on fire if it was.”

Harry smiles, “I read most of it yesterday. I only had about fifty pages or so left before we went outside.”

“Do you want to finish it?” Louis asks, dog-tailing the page he was on and closing the book, going to hand it to Harry.

Harry shakes his head no, “You can finish – I was actually thinking of maybe making the pizza you said we would make earlier? I’m starting to get hungry – I know it’s kind of early for dinner, but I’m kind of really excited to make pizza from scratch for the first time ever.”

Louis smiles bright and wide and Harry can tell that he’s feeling pure joy from the statement, “Yeah? We can do that if you want right now.”

Harry smiles and nods and waits for Louis to get up from where he’s seated in the chair and follows after him into the kitchen.

“I just – I um. If I fuck something up… I’m sorry in advance,” Harry says, a blush coloring his cheeks slightly. He doesn’t want Louis to get mad if Harry messes anything up and they don’t get to eat pizza for dinner (or if they end up eating disgusting and fucked up pizza for dinner).

Louis laughs, “If you mess something up it’ll be okay. It took me a couple of tries to make my pizza decent tasting. But unlike you, I didn’t have anyone to help me and tell me exactly what was right to do and how much of everything to put in and on everything. So you should be okay.”

Harry nods, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s nervous and excited – anxious – about making the pizza and he’s scared that he’ll burn something on fire.

“Okay, so just. I’ll get everything we need for the dough, yeah?” Louis tells him, walking to the pantry and pulling out a box of yeast, bread flour, olive oil, salt, and sugar. He places the items on the counter beside Harry and then looks underneath the counter for a big bowl and plastic wrap. Then he goes to a drawer, opening it and pulling out a measuring cup and measuring spoons.

“Okay, so first we need to mix these,” he points to the ingredients, “into the bowl and mix them up real good. Then we have to knead the dough.”

Harry nods in understanding and Louis hands him the measuring cup.

“Put the tap on hot and wait until it’s warm enough and then fill it up to one and a half of a cup,” Louis instructs him and Harry nods. He turns to the sink and turns the tap on hot and puts his hand underneath the water, feeling it until the water is hot but not scorching hot. He moves his hand, replacing it with the measuring cup and filling it up to 1 ½ cups.

He turns to Louis, showing him the cup, “This good?” he asks, making sure.

Louis smiles and nods, taking the cup of water from Harry and gently pouring it into the big bowl on the counter.

He turns back to Harry, “Okay, good. Now,” Louis hands him the measuring spoons and passes him the olive oil, “put two tablespoons of olive oil into the bowl.”

Harry grabs the spoons and looks through them, finding the one that says TBSP in script on it. He uncaps the olive oil and pours enough into the spoon until it’s full, emptying it into the bowl and then repeating the process once more.

“Okay,” Harry says, putting the cap back onto the olive oil and placing the measuring spoons back down onto the counter, “What now?” he asks, turning to Louis.

“Pour the whole package of this into the bowl,” Louis says, grabbing the yeast and handing it to Harry. Harry tears the package open gently and then dumps it softly into the bowl, careful not to be too rough and cause the liquid ingredients already in the bowl to splash up.

“Alright, now add two teaspoons of the salt and one teaspoon of sugar to the bowl,” Louis instructs, passing over the bag of sugar and the container of salt.

Harry opens the salt first, scooping up a teaspoon of it and then dropping it into the bowl. He does that once more and then adds a teaspoon of the sugar into the mixture of ingredients in the cooking bowl.

“Now all that’s left is the bread flour,” Louis says, grabbing the bread flour and placing it in front of him and Harry. “We need three and a half cups of it.”

When Harry’s done adding the bread flour, he leans against the counter patiently waiting while Louis is picking up all the ingredients they used and throwing away everything they used all of.

While he’s waiting, he peers into the bowl and wrinkles his nose at how it looks. It looks absolutely horrid and terribly gross. He hopes it looks a tad bit better after it’s stirred fully.

Louis appears back at the counter with a wooden spoon and a smile on his face, “Do you want to stir it?” he asks Harry.

“Nah, you can do that,” Harry replies. He feels like he’s done everything and Louis did say that they were doing this together. If he’s doing everything that isn’t doing it together.

Louis nods and starts stirring the ingredients together, his tongue poking out in concentration. Harry watches his curiously and full of intent, entranced by how cute Louis looks when he’s concentrating. Louis catches him staring in the corner of his eyes and Harry looks away quickly, focusing his eyes on the bowl and the thick dough that has now formed inside of it.

Louis curses, obviously forgetting something, then walks back to the pantry. When he comes back to the counter he has a handful of flour in his hands and places it on the counter top, scattering it out.

“What’s that for?” asks Harry. He’s confused as to why Louis is putting flour on the counter top. He’s just making a big mess.

“To knead the dough on top of so that it doesn’t stick to the counter top. I don’t have a board to knead it over, so I have to do this instead,” Louis says and then picks up the bowl, hitting the bottom of it until the pizza dough falls down with a plop on top of the floured kitchen counter.

“Okay, so basically, you need to knead it normally at first until it’s like nice? I’m not sure how to describe it. And then when it feels nice and it’s not too thick, start trying to get it into a circular shape like a pizza. Unless you want it a square pizza? Or we could do mini pizzas in different shapes. Whatever you want is up to you,” Louis says.

“Uh,” Harry contemplates, “Whichever way is easier?”

Louis nods, “Circle it is. We need to wash our hands first, though. I don’t know about you but I don’t enjoy the idea of touching something we’re going to eat with dirty hands.”

They wash their hands, making sure to clean every surface of their fingers and then washes every speck of soap from off of their now clean hands.

Once they’re hands are clean and dried off, they get at kneading the pizza dough. It’s a lot harder than Harry would have imagined it to have been. The dough is hard and thick and tough and it’s not easy kneading something with someone else’s hands hitting yours every time you try to move them.

They end up giggling the whole time and laughing like idiots when Louis takes the dough and throws it up in the air with a cry of, “Like in the movies!” and then it falls with a thwap! back onto the counter top, one side on top of the other.

“Look what you’ve done!” Harry screams, “It was in a perfect circle and now it’s ruined!”

Louis doubles over in laughter at how terrible Harry is at acting and then Harry has to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing so hard he’s started snorting just a bit.

Once they’ve calmed down, they finish up with the dough and then Louis announces that they have to get started with the toppings of the dough.

They decide on plain pepperoni because that’s Harry’s favorite and they’re fixing the pizza on Harry’s behalf. Louis walks to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of tomato sauce, a bag of cheese, and pepperoni’s.

Louis hands him the stuff and tells him simply to “figure out what to do” and then watches with amusement at how Harry dumps the tomato sauce on top of the pizza and then puts his fingers into it, spreading it out on the dough.

Harry glares up at him, “You think this is funny?” he asks, with mock anger apparent in his voice. His next move, Louis would never have been able to predict.

Harry grabs a handful of the tomato sauce, a look of determination on his face, and then shoves it on Louis’s face, rubbing it in so that it stains his lower half of his face (his cheeks, nose, chin, and even gets a bit inside of his mouth).

Louis’s mouth goes the shape of an “o” in shock and he squeezes his eyes shut. He tells himself not to be childish, but his hands seem to work by themselves. Grabbing a handful of tomato sauce out of the jar, he gives Harry’s face the same treatment that Harry gave his.

Harry squeals and then they’re on.

The whole kitchen and every inch of their body is covered in tomato sauce from their tomato sauce fight.

“It’s a good thing I put enough on the pizza before I covered your face in some or we’d have none left for the pizza,” Harry says, giggling and grabbing a napkin to clean his face off. He has a bit of tomato sauce in his eyes and it burns just a bit.

Louis mocks what he says with a disgusted tone to his voice and Harry starts laughing more and harder, has to stop what he’s doing with his napkin so that he doesn’t end up poking his eyes out or anything from his body shaking with laughter.

“Definitely not funny,” Louis says loudly, hitting Harry’s shoulder playfully. “Now we have to clean all this shit up. It’s going to take forever.”

“We can worry about that when we’re done with the pizza! I still have to add the cheese and pepperonis,” Harry announces, walking slowly to the counter and trying not to slip on the slippery sauce on the floor.

Louis pulls out a pizza pan from underneath the oven and opens the oven, handing the pizza pan to Harry.

“Do you want me to help you put it on there so you don’t drop it?” Louis asks, sounding a bit nervous.

Harry nods – the floor is slippery from the sauce and he’s a klutz. He doesn’t want to be the reason that it falls on the floor.

Louis nods and carefully walks a bit closer, grabbing the pan and holding it at counter top level so that Harry can kind of lift it up a bit and slide it onto the pan. When the pizza is on the pan, he hands the pan to Harry and helps Harry carefully walk to the oven and slide it inside.

They set the oven to the appropriate degree and then set the timer on the oven to fifteen minutes. That gives them enough time to clean up the kitchen good enough until the pizza is done and get cleaned up themselves and re-dressed.

“You start cleaning the counter, I’ll get the floor,” Louis tells Harry, walking slowly to the closet and pulling out a mop and a bucket.

Harry walks over to the counter and looks through the drawers, finally finding a rag. He wets it and then cleans up the sauce that got caught on the counter and the remainder of the flour. He hears Louis running water into the bucket and then the slap of the mop in the water and the finally slap of the mop on the ground.

Cleaning is not as fun as making the mess.

——-

When they’re done cleaning, they have only five minutes to clean themselves up before they have to take the pizza out of the oven.

They don’t have to rush, though, because after they take the pizza out they’ll have enough time to do whatever else they need to do because the pizza will have to cool down before they can cut it and eat it.

Harry goes to his bathroom, taking off his clothes and running a wet towel over his arms and face and getting as much sauce as he can muster out of his hair. He hears the timer go off and peaks his head out of the bathroom door to see if Louis is going to get the pizza or if he needs to get it out of the oven while he’s half naked. He sees Louis walking down the stairs in only his pants and shuts the door quickly, not letting himself stare at Louis’s half naked body like he’d wanted to.

He goes through the door of the bathroom that’s connected to his room and pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and then goes into the kitchen to see that Louis isn’t there half naked anymore (thank god because Harry’s not sure what he’d have done, he’s starting to forget that he’s not supposed to like Louis and seeing Louis half naked is going to do nothing to help those thoughts).

Harry looks at the pizza and sees that it looks just as delicious as it smells. He can’t wait for it to cool so he can eat it.

He takes a seat at the table and a few minutes later, Louis comes into the kitchen clad in a pair of shorts and a striped shirt that fits his torso tightly.

“I hope its cool enough now, it smells so good,” Louis says while he’s walking into the kitchen.

Harry hums and nods in agreement.

Louis walks to the counter where the pizza is resting on top of the pan and studies it. Harry doesn’t see any steam still coming off of the pizza so he’s almost positive that it’s cooled off enough. Louis must decide that it is, too, because he starts looking inside of a drawer and pulls out a pizza cutter. He begins cutting the pizza into eight pieces and then grabs two plates out of the cabinet, placing one on the counter for Harry.

Harry gets up and waits for Louis to finish grabbing his two slices and placing them in his plate before he grabs his two slices and places them in his plate as well.

They sit down and then they both take a bite out of the pizza and they both make a sound of delight.

“This is actually good,” Louis says as though he thought it would taste anything but delicious.

Harry decides to save the snappy comeback that filled his brain and hums in agreement instead, taking another bite. He hasn’t eaten pizza in forever and he’s not sure if that’s why the pizza tastes so damn delicious or if it actually just is delicious.

He pushes the thought of maybe it’s so good because Louis helped me make it to the back of his head because only someone in love would think that and he can’t be in love with someone that’s stolen him.

Even though the thought of Louis stealing Harry isn’t sounding as bad as it used to sound to Harry.


	8. chapter six

“So,” Louis announces, picking up their dirty dishes and placing them into the sink, “I was thinking we could have like a movie night tonight or summat? Do something interesting.”

“A movie night?” Harry asks. He remembers the last time he’d watched movies with a couple of friends and they’d called it ‘movie night’. It ended with him getting his first girlfriend – and first snog, if he remembers correctly – and he gulps.

Louis nods, “Yeah. I mean, if you want. I was just thinking we should do something, y’know? It gets kind of boring just reading all the time.”

Harry nods in agreement, biting the inside of his cheeks, “Maybe not movies, though, yeah? Maybe something like… painting. We could paint together?”

Louis smiles, “You want to do that?”

Harry nods, praying that Louis doesn’t catch onto the fact that something’s up. He wishes he hadn’t said painting, though. He has a nervous OCD-type habit that makes him jittery to paint in front of other people.

Louis nods, “Okay, that sounds fine to me then. Painting it is.”

——-

“Do you want to wait until tomorrow or do you want to paint in the dark?” Louis asks. Harry’s pretty sure he has a hint of sarcasm to his voice, but he decides to ignore it. If they paint in the dark, he thinks, Louis won’t be able to see what he paints easily and he won’t be able to see much of anything easily. It’s perfect, really.

“Let’s paint now. It’ll be fun, yeah? Painting without being able to see very well. I bet you’ve never done anything like that!” Harry says. He tries to make himself sound enthusiastic, tries to push that the idea is spectacular, but he’s almost sure that Louis isn’t buying it.

“Why do you want to paint in the dark, Harry?” Louis asks, suspiciously, his head cocked to the side.

Harry sighs, trains his eyes on the ground. “I just… do. It sounds fun – something new.”

Louis eyes him for a little while longer, and then sighs, “Okay. Fine. Let’s go, yeah?” He grabs a lantern and starts walking to the staircase, turning around to see if Harry’s following him.

Harry starts following, walking behind him up the staircase and wondering if he’s either just a good actor or if Louis doesn’t want to push the subject too much.

———

When they get outside, Louis turns on the lantern. The lantern lights up their path just enough for them to see the ground in front of them, so Harry trails closely behind Louis. They walk in silence, the air between them thick, almost as if they both know there’s something they need to talk about but neither boys want to bring up the subject.

When they enter the barn, they walk straight to the paint room. Harry notices that, even with the lantern, the room is pitch-black and you really can’t see anything.

“Good luck with seeing what you’re doing,” Louis says in an almost I-told-you-so way.

Harry rolls his eyes, even though he knows Louis can’t see. “Fine. Let’s go back then.”

Louis sighs and Harry hears footsteps, sees the lantern get closer to him and Louis’s shadow.

“Tell me what this is about, Harry,” Louis demands, all subtly about knowing something’s wrong throw out the window.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry replies in a harsh tone. He doesn’t want to talk about the fact that he came up with an idea of something he’s uncomfortable with just so that they didn’t have a ‘movie night’. He doesn’t want to talk about the fact that the last movie night he had resulted in snogging and he definitely doesn’t want to talk about the fact that he actually wouldn’t mind if he and Louis snogged.

Louis sighs and drags his free hand over his face, “I thought you were done with being stubborn.”

Harry wants to laugh, really. Wants to let all his frustration out with the simpleness of a laugh. But now isn’t the time to laugh.

“And I thought you were smart,” is all Harry replies with before he turns towards the paint-room door and feels his way out of the barn. He can tell that Louis is walking behind him, trying to follow him and keep up silently. He walks faster, surprisingly not running into anything like the first time he’d been in the barn without a light to illuminate his pathway.

When he’s outside, he can’t see anything except for the light from the back yard and the glare from the moon. He doesn’t care, would rather not be able to see anything rather than walk beside Louis.

He wants to ask himself why the fuck he’s started having feelings for Louis, for the bloke that fucking stole him from his family – from his life – but he knows the answer already. He knows he has feelings for Louis because he’s sweet and nice and goes out of his way to make Harry feel a little less miserable and a little happier because he cares about Harry unlike everyone else Harry knows. He has feelings for Louis because he’s handsome and his voice reminds him of smiles and fucking rainbows. He has feelings for Louis because even though Louis has done something entirely wrong he’s done it for all the right reasons.

He’s about half a mile away from the house when he steps on something. He has a second to wonder what it is before he hears the loud ‘hiss’ from beneath his feet and then his leg feels soaring pain from his ankle to his hip and he collapses on the ground with a cry.

He feels the snake that he stepped on slither angrily over his plaint body and then slithering away, in the opposite direction towards the house, probably to go hide in one of the bushes behind the house or in one of the trees.

Harry wants to grab his leg, he wants to cry, wants to scream, but he can’t. He feels paralyzed. His leg feels like – feels like, fuck, he can’t even think of a word that could explain how fucking painful his leg feels at this very moment.

Louis must notice that he’s fallen or something has happened to him, because he hears the call of “Harry?” and can hear Louis’s light footsteps getting closer to him. He can hear the faint sound of “oh shit” and then the footsteps get faster. Louis is running towards him, and then kneeling next to him.

“Oh god, Harry, oh god. Stay calm, yeah? Think of – think of happy things for me, okay? Don’t think of your leg. I’m going to get you back to the house and inside, okay? I need you to stay awake – whatever you do, do not go to sleep,” Louis tells him, picking him up off the ground and running back to the house. Harry wonders how the hell Louis got so fucking strong.

He does as Louis told him, trying to think of happy things to get his mind off the soaring pain through his leg. He thinks of making pizza and painting and reading books and he thinks of how young Louis looks when he wears his glasses and big shirts and lays in his reading chair with a book perched in-between his hands.

His head feels heavy and he thinks that this is what happens when you get bit by something poisonous, thinks that the poison slowly trails through your whole body and ends in your head. He wonders if the poison is eating away, slowly, at his brain. He wonders about what would happen if he let the sleepy feeling overcome his body, what would happen if he disobeyed Louis’s orders about going to sleep.

He can’t help it, though, can’t help that his head feels heavy and his eyelids are closing at their own accord. He can’t help that his whole body hurts.

And then it doesn’t.


	9. chapter seven

When Harry woke up, he was being shaken and a shaky voice was screaming, “Harry! Harry, come on! Wake up!”

He groaned, pushing the arm that was shaking him away and went to roll over onto his side. When he went to turn, though, his leg touched the material of the bed sheets and he cried out in pain, hand going to clutch his leg, and remembered everything that had happened previous. 

He’d almost forgotten about getting bit by the snake (which he isn’t sure how that could be possible, considering he’ll probably be scarred for life with the memory of the pain) and moving his leg probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Thank God, don’t scare me like that again. Jesus Christ,” Louis sighed in relief from beside him, a shaky hand sliding slowly down his face and wiping at his eyes – almost as if he had been crying.

“Am I going to live? Or am I going to be paralyzed for the rest of my life or something?” Harry asked.

Louis furrowed his eye brows, “This isn’t a game, Harry! You could have been killed! Or severely injured or paralyzed or something! Why are you joking in a time like this?”

“I was being serious! I swear!” Harry said defensively. He was actually being serious. He had no idea about what happens if you get bit by a poisonous snake and he had no intentions of finding out, even though he apparently has now.

Louis sighed, “You can’t move too much for a day or two. Well – you could, but there could be a chance that all the venom hasn’t left your system and if you move too much there’s a great chance that you could cause the venom to spread if there was any left. So just to be on the safe side, the only time you’re allowed up is to use the restroom. And if you have to pee or anything, tell me and I’m going to help you, Harry. I’m not chancing you getting hurt again. I don’t know what I’d – what I’d do if you –“ Louis cut himself off, coming to a stop and training his eyes on the ground.

“So I get to sleep in your bed?” Harry asked, trying to lift the mood a bit. He didn’t want to think about if he had to use the restroom and Louis being there at the same time. He really didn’t want to think about that.

Louis chuckled a bit, “Yeah. My bed’s a bit more comfortable than yours is and it’s bigger. If you’re hungry or thirsty or anything, tell me, yeah? Think of me as your servant – your slave – for the next few days.”

The thought of Louis referring to himself as Harry’s slave shouldn’t have put such a hot image in Harry’s mind.

———-

It turns out; Harry concluded a few short hours later, that Louis wasn’t joking about doing everything Harry asked him to.

Louis had brought up a bell to the room, placing it down on the bed side table and telling Harry that he was to leave the door open and not get up – basically not do anything but breathe, sleep, and lay down; rest – and that if he needed to pee or was hungry or thirsty or wanted a book to read or a movie put on or anything, to ring the bell and let Louis know what he wanted.

The first hour after Louis went downstairs and started cooking Harry’s request of tacos for dinner, Louis had checked up on Harry every ten minutes – literally.

When Louis had the chance, he’d go up the stairs, and ask Harry if he needed anything and make sure that he wasn’t feeling any initial pain or anything.

Once the tacos were done cooking, Louis came up the stairs with a bed tray, helped Harry sit up against the headboard, and then placed the tray in his lap. He went back downstairs, coming back up with a plate full of three tacos filled with what Harry told him he ate on his tacos (lettuce, salsa, cheese, and small sliced up tomatoes) and a glass full of sprite.

When Harry was done eating, he rang the bell and only a few seconds later, Louis was in the room and asking what he needed.

“I’m done eating,” Harry said, pointing to his empty plate and glass. He felt helpless that he couldn’t do something as simple as getting up and picking up his own dirty dishes and the thought of having to have Louis wait on him because he was so useless made him want to hide away and not do anything for a really long time. Harry was always independent and now that he had no choice but to depend on someone else to do everything for him, he decided that he didn’t like it as much as some people did. He didn’t quite understand how some people could have butlers and maids to do all their work for them.

Louis smiled and nodded, picking up the dirty dishes and the tray and started walking towards the door.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, stopping in the doorway.

“No,” Harry replied. He had needed to use the restroom for the past hour but he was nervous about telling Louis. He didn’t know if he’d stay in the bathroom with him, and the thought of Louis being able to see… him made him feel embarrassed.

“Okay. Just let me know if you do, yeah?” he offered and then turned, walking down the stairs and picking up the dirty dishes.

About ten minutes later, Harry groaned and finally mustered up enough courage to ring the bell and let Louis know he needed to use the bathroom. It was either take a chance with Louis being in the room with him or weeing himself – and that definitely was not going to be the outcome.

Louis walked up the stairs, poking his head into the door, “Yes?” he asked.

“I – um – I need to use the restroom,” Harry told him, his face flushing and becoming unbearably hot.

Louis averted his eyes for a total of five seconds (not like Harry was counting, don’t be ridiculous) and then met Harry’s eyes once more, nodding, “O-okay.”

He walked towards the bed – Harry tried to ignore the fact that it was very much of wobbly feet – and stretched his hand out for Harry to take ahold and use as leverage to get out of the bed. When Harry was standing up right, he went to stretch his legs. They felt cramped and un-used and he wondered for a moment if maybe this is what old people feel like every time they stand up.

But Louis wasn’t having any of that.

“Don’t do that! You could tear a muscle or something. Come on, I’ll help you to the bathroom, yeah?”

Harry nodded, moving to walk with Louis’s hand clutching tightly onto his upper arm. When Harry took his first step, he had to grab at Louis’s waist before he had a face-full of floor.

“You okay?” Louis asked, concerned. Harry swallowed, nodding, and then tried to take another step – this time, with his bad leg.

When all his weight went to the opposite leg – the one that the snake bit into, the one he had to be extra careful with – he wanted to cry (he’s sure he probably had a few tears streaming down his face without his knowing). The pain was worse than the initial pain he had when the venom was actually inside of his blood stream. His leg felt almost as if he had a leg cramp, but ten times worse.

He tried to hold back the whimper that was threatening to escape his mouth, but he didn’t succeed.

“Do you want me to carry you? Does it hurt that bad?” Louis asked, face and voice full of concern. Harry was pretty sure that his body even tensed with how much he was concerned about Harry’s well-being at the moment.

Harry bit his lip. As much as he wanted to tell Louis that he’d be perfectly fine with him carrying him, he knew he couldn’t. He needed to work his legs – carefully – if he wanted them to not hurt anymore. At least, that’s what he suspected.

He shook his head, “No. I got it. Just – don’t let go of me, yeah?”

Louis nodded, removing his hands from Harry’s arm for a split second and replacing them on Harry’s narrow hips for a better grip. He held onto Harry’s hips tightly and Harry noticed that the switch in grip had actually made it a bit easier for him to fall into and move better.

A few painful steps later, Harry was entering the bathroom and he started to panic. He was almost sure that Louis was probably going to stay in the bathroom with him – Louis needed to; if he didn’t Harry would probably fall flat on his face and hurt himself more than he already is.

“So – um. I’m going to turn around while you – while you, um. Yeah,” Louis stuttered, obviously not sure as to what to do in this situation, either.

Harry bit his lip, trying not to groan, and nodded.

When he went to unzip his trousers and wee, he heard Louis turn around and avert his eyes.

(And if he also noticed that Louis took a peek a few times, he didn’t say anything. The fact that Louis bit his lip – almost painfully – was enough for Harry.)

————————

Once Harry was safely and comfortably back into the laying position on Louis’s bed, he gave a few things some thoughts.

No matter what he thought about, ever since he read Louis’s diary, he was curious. Harry desperately wanted to know more about Louis’s past.

The thing that got to Harry the most, though, was the fact that he knew. Harry knew that Louis had seen him a couple of times when they were younger, he knew about Louis’s different plans on how to get Harry. Harry knew. And the fact that Harry knew and Louis didn’t know he knew, was making him feel guilty for some unknown reason.

After a while, Harry started coming up with ways to let Louis know that he looked through his diary. He thought of things from “I looked through your diary” to things like “I’m not sure where – but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before. When I was younger” to hint that he knew Louis knew him when they were younger.

But all the plans Harry made to bring the subject up either seemed to straight forward or not forward enough.

He groaned, turning over onto his other side carefully and staring at the wall for a few seconds, then thought, I’ll think some more tomorrow. And let himself fall into a peaceful sleep where all he thought about was a beautiful bloke biting his lip and wanting Harry more than anything.

————-

Harry never really pictured how awkward it was for someone to walk into the room while you have morning wood.

It never really happened to him, considering all his life he either woke up when he wanted to or woke up when his alarm went off (his parents were always too busy to worry about waking Harry or his sister Gemma up), so he’d never had to endure one of those awkward-morning-times when someone was to walk in your room and see you with a raging hard on.

Especially not when he was still asleep and moaning.

Harry jolted awake out of his sleep when he heard a loud, uncomfortable cough come from beside him.

“I um – I made you breakfast,” Louis said, holding the plate of eggs and toast up a little higher just in case Harry hadn’t seen it before when he was holding it at waist length.

Harry swallowed, nodding, “T-thanks. I – uh. Yeah.”

Louis nodded, looking away from Harry and then placed the food on the side table, “Uh – I have to walk to the barn because we don’t have any water left. So – I’ll be back in ten minutes. You’ll be okay, right?”

Harry bit his lip and nodded. He should be okay – more than okay, really. Ten minutes gives him enough time to try to cool off from his embarrassment.

“Okay, well I’ll just,” Louis said, turning to leave and evacuating from the awkward situation as fast as he could. Harry didn’t blame him.

As soon as Louis was out of the front door, Harry groaned and cursed himself. Of all days to have a sex dream (one that was about Louis, of fucking course), today just had to be it.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to apologize to Louis for Louis having to walk in on him moaning – and most likely rutting against the sheets if the throbbing from his sore leg had any say in it – or just forget that it ever even happened. He was pretty sure the latter would be easier. But how was he supposed to forget the fact that if Louis would have been in there any longer, there could have been a high chance that he would have heard Harry moaning his name?

—————

When Louis got back, it was almost as if nothing had happened the mere minutes before.

Louis smiled at Harry, placing the water bottle on the side table and grabbing the now empty plate of food and made sure that Harry didn’t need anything before he went back downstairs.

Harry wondered if maybe Louis was doing the same thing he planned on doing – trying to forget that the whole embarrassing moment had happened.

A few minutes after Louis disappeared downstairs to pick up the dirty dishes, he was back into the room and asking Harry if he wanted to go downstairs.

“You’ve got to be tired of lying around and doing nothing. As far as I know – you haven’t even read a book or anything. You’ve just been eating, sleeping, and lying,” Louis had said when Harry asked why he had to go downstairs.

Harry wanted to get out of the bed, he really did, but the thought of being stuck downstairs and not being able to leave the room if anything got awkward crossed his mind and – well.

“Didn’t you say I needed to rest, though?” Harry asked smugly.

Louis faltered for a minute, not knowing what to say, but then regained his wit.

“You will be resting! But you’ll be out of this room, too. It’s starting to smell in here,” Louis announced, “No offence,” he tagged on quickly when Harry raised his eye brows.

“I’ve only been in here for two days! How can it smell that bad?” Harry asked, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Did it really smell that bad in the room? He didn’t smell anything (not like he paid much attention until now).

Louis shrugged, “I just need to wash the sheets and clean up a bit. Plus, you haven’t taken a bath in those two days, so. That’s pretty much most of the reason why it smells, I’m sure.”

“Is it that bad?” Harry asked. All he could think was oh my god, I stink, and I’m appalling.

Louis laughed, shaking his head, “No, it isn’t that bad. Don’t freak out. I could help you get into the tub if you want? And then I could – you know, wash the sheets and stuff.”

Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. He freaked out enough about the fact that Louis would be in the bathroom with him while he was having a wee, and now Louis was proposing the idea of a bath?

“I’m not going to stay in there with you or anything,” Louis said, quickly, catching onto Harry’s hesitation. “I’ll just help you undress and get into the tub safely and then I’ll leave. I swear.”

“You’ll still have to see me naked,” Harry said, biting his cheek when he noticed he said that out loud instead of keeping it in his thoughts.

“Does that – does that make you uncomfortable?” Louis asked.

Harry trained his eyes on the ground, “Yeah – I mean. It’s not just you or anything. I just – don’t like people seeing me naked? Not even half naked, really. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Louis nodded, “Then I’ll just stand outside of the door while you get in the tub. Before you turn the water on, though, let me know that you got out of your clothes and into the tub safely, yeah?”

Harry nodded, liking that idea much better than the first one. Once he was standing up and Louis had succeeded in getting him by the tub, he waited for Louis to turn and leave the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind him, before he started stripping.

He took his shirt off first, since it was probably going to be the easiest item of clothing he’d be able to get off without struggling or falling on his face.

Once his shirt was on the floor, he went to pull down his sweat pants, stepping out of them carefully and slowly so that he wouldn’t strain himself or trip when trying to get his feet out of them. He shucked his pants off; finally, thinking that maybe taking a bath wasn’t that difficult. As long as he took his time and was careful, he’d be alright.

“You okay, Harry?” Louis’s voice rang through the bathroom door and into the bathroom whenever Harry hit his head on the wall trying to get into the tub.

“Yeah – just hit my head trying to get into the tub! I’m alright, you can do the sheets now,” he called back, stepping into the tub and sitting down with success this time. He had to bend his leg a certain way so that it didn’t throb so much (and the new position was uncomfortable, in the least), but he bathed himself none-the-less.

When it was time to get out of the tub, though, he thought of how he was supposed to get any clothes, since all his wardrobe (well, technically not his, but) was downstairs and in his room.

He carefully lifted himself from the emptying tub and stepped out, looking in the closet and grabbing a towel. He dried himself off, and then slowly walked out of the bathroom, using anything he could grab onto for leverage to keep himself from falling when he wobbled a bit.

“Louis?” Harry called, poking his head out of the bathroom door. He looked around the room, noticing that the bed was stripped of its sheets and that it actually did smell a bit funny in the small room.

When there was no reply, and his legs were getting tired, he walked the little bit of way he had left until he plopped himself down, sitting on the edge of the bed.

A few minutes later, Louis was entering through the front door. He jumped when he noticed Harry sitting patiently on the bed, his lower body draped with a damp towel.

“Why are you naked?” Louis asked.

Harry blushed, “Um. All of my clothes are down in my room and I can barely walk on normal flooring – so I didn’t think it’d be smart to try to take on the stairs.”

Louis cursed, “Shit. I’m sorry, Harry. I forgot all about you needing another pair of clothes. Sit tight, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

Harry nodded, wanting to ask where else he could possibly wonder off to, but decides against it and holds his cheek. He waits for Louis to get back and once he is back, he blushes.

“Um – can you?” he asks Louis.

Louis scrunches his eye brows together, before understanding what Harry wants.

He nods, “I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything, yeah?”

Harry nods, understanding, “Can you – can you um. Close the door, too?”

Louis looks almost hurt at the question, like Harry doesn’t trust that he won’t peek inside and watch him get dressed (which, Harry suspects, he might; considering he peeked when Harry was weeing), but then he nods and walks out the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry slips on his clothes, making sure that when he lifts his leg to slip it through the holes in his pants and joggers that he makes sure he doesn’t get anything wrong (like having it backwards or his toe getting caught on the entering spot in the material) and then lays back on the bed, deciding that today he’s going to talk to Louis about the diary.

He’s thought about this enough, he tells himself. It’s time that he talks to Louis about it. No backing down.


	10. chapter eight

Later, when Louis walks back upstairs to check on Harry again, Harry decides it’s good enough of a time to tell him about the diary.

The thing is – Harry isn’t sure how Louis is going to react to the fact that Harry was snooping and reading through his personal belongings, so he’s extremely nervous. He doesn’t know if Louis is going to shrug and not care or if he’ll be pissed and want to hurt Harry. But no matter how frightened he is about Louis’s reaction, he has to tell him. He can’t let his conscious take over his thoughts 24/7 anymore.

“Do you need anything?” Louis asks, head poked into the room and surveying Harry, making sure he’s settled and resting.

Harry shakes his head, “No, I’m good. But – I need to talk to you?”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, nodding his head, and then walks fully into the room and takes a seat in the chair across from the bed.

“What about?” Louis asks curiously.

“Just – before you say anything or interrupt or get mad at me or anything… let me finish, yeah?” Harry asks, making sure that he can explain himself fully before Louis makes him stop talking.

Louis nods, his eye brows furrowed and his head cocked to the side – most likely trying to figure out what the hell Harry’s going on about.

“Okay, well,” Harry starts, he takes a few seconds to think of how to start and decides to just be straight forward and come out with it, “I read your journal. When I was up here a few days ago because it was hot. I was nosey and I looked through your stuff and I saw your journal and I know it’s private but I couldn’t help myself and I read it.”

Harry finally looks up after a few seconds of silence pass and looks at Louis, noticing that Louis is blushing and his eyes are focused on the floor.

“Are you going to yell at me? Tell me to stay the fuck out of your stuff? Just say something, please,” Harry begs. He doesn’t like the fact that Louis is being quiet about this – it makes him feel shaky and a bit frightened.

“I’m not mad,” Louis finally speaks up, “Just a bit embarrassed.” He chuckles.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Why are you embarrassed and not mad?”

Louis blushes even deeper, “You read it – you know what’s in there. It’s embarrassing!”

Harry giggles, “So you aren’t mad?”

Louis shakes his head, “No – well, I am a bit. Because it was quite personal. But it’s okay. I guess we need to talk about what’s in there, though, yeah?”

Harry nods, biting the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think we do. I mean – we don’t exactly have to. But it would be much better if we did.”

Louis hums, “Go ahead and ask me anything you want and I’ll answer it truthfully. You deserve the whole truth.”

Harry prodded at his teeth for a minute before asking, “Do you genuinely like me?”

Louis blushed, but kept eye contact as he nodded, “I kind of liked you ever since I first saw you when I was fifteen. I thought,” he coughs, awkwardly, “still think – that you’re cute.”

Harry tries not to smile even though he truly wants to. He’s still not sure why he even likes Louis but – does it really matter? So what if Louis stole him? Being with Louis in the little house they’re staying in in the middle of nowhere has been more exciting – and fun – than Harry’s whole life wrapped up into one.

“Call me crazy but – I actually kind of like you too?” he doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding so questioning, but that’s what it feels like. He feels like he’s asking permission to like Louis back – he’s pretty sure the answer would be yes.

Louis blushes a deeper shade of scarlet red and breaks the eye contact, his eyes burning holes into the floor, “You do? Even though I’m so terrible for taking you?” towards the end of the question, he looks up, his eyes meeting Harry’s.

Harry shrugs, biting his lip, “It doesn’t really – bother me as much as it did before? Like, I’ll be honest, even though you did take me and I did get bit by a snake a few days ago – I’ve had more fun over here than I have at home my entire life. This place is beautiful and it’s actually nice other than boring and old like my house. And the fact that you’re pretty cute can’t hurt.” He says the last bit quietly – so quiet that he kind of hopes it wasn’t audible. He hadn’t planned on adding that bit into the end, but it just came out without his brain’s permission.

Louis giggles – and if that isn’t the cutest fucking thing – and smiles, “I shouldn’t have taken you, though. I mean. I just – at first I had this whole plan mapped out. I was going to start dating you or something and then convince you to run away with me. But then when I really thought about it, why would you like me? You’re rich and popular and good looking and I’m pretty much a nobody. So for some reason I thought taking you would do me better. But it’s not – at least not in the end.”

Harry looks away from Louis’s suddenly sad eyes, “If you bring me back and they catch you – you’ll go to jail.”

Louis nods, “I know – well, I know that now. I didn’t really think that part through whenever I made the plan.”

Harry bites his lip, knowing that what he’s deciding to say next is a big step. It could either be good for him and good for Louis or bad for them both. But Harry’s learned that sometimes thinking things through isn’t as fun and exciting as just going on instinct.

“Then don’t bring me back. I’ll stay here. With you. Forever – if you want,” Harry says, and really, he shouldn’t have said it.

If he does stay, there’s a possibility that everyone at home will forget about him – they’ll forget that he ever went missing let alone even existed if he’s gone long enough. And if he goes back home, Louis will most likely get arrested, considering that Harry would be selfish and want to see him every day.

They could always lie and say that Louis is just a friend from town…

“Harry? Are you even listening?” Louis’s voice snaps him out of his thought.

Harry jumps, “Sorry. You were saying?”

Louis rolls his eyes, playfully, and then goes serious, “That’s – I don’t think that’s something I could do, Harry. We both have to go back eventually. I know you want to go home, even if you don’t think you want to – but you do. I have to go back eventually because there are a lot of supplies – but there isn’t enough to last a lifetime. They’ll start running out in a few months and I’ll have to go back into town and stock up on more supplies if I’m staying out here. And when I do eventually go back for said supplies, someone will recognize me – because I’m sure surveillance in the airport got my face on camera – and I’ll be arrested. So it’s either jail or we both die. I’d rather you live and be at home with your family and friends rather than us both end up suffering because you’ve changed your mind and decided to stay with me just out of pity.”

“I don’t want to stay out of pity,” Harry whispered in reply, deciding to only acknowledge the last sentence that Louis announced. He doesn’t want to think about Louis hiding out and dying from fatigue or hunger because he can’t go back into town for supplies and he doesn’t want to think about Louis going to prison, either.

Louis eyes him, like he doesn’t believe anything that has just came out of Harry’s mouth.

“Then why do you want to stay with me, Harry? For most of the time you’ve been here – which has only been a week – you’ve absolutely detested me. What’s changed your mind all of a sudden?”

Harry blushes, “Reading your diary. It’s changed my point of view on you and our situation. I just – I feel like I understand a bit?”

Louis raises an eyebrow, “If you reading my personal writing is going to make you this much more pleasant than I should have just handed you my journal on day one.”

Harry laughs, “I think I always liked you – but I didn’t want to admit it to myself, you know? Like your first reaction to someone taking you is hatred and the fact that I didn’t mind so much that you’d taken me scared me? I know for sure I thought you were attractive when I saw you in Starbucks. I really wanted to kiss you.”

Louis’s blush returns and Harry wonders if he just blushes easily or if it’s just Harry that makes him blush so easily, “Yeah? You wanted to kiss me?”

Harry wants to laugh, really, because he’s almost sure of how this whole façade is going to go. He’s going to tell Louis yes, I wanted to kiss you and then Louis is going to ask permission to kiss him and they’re going to kiss. It’s so cliché in hurts, really.

Harry bites his lip and nods his head slowly.

“I would ask if I could – but I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Louis says, his teeth worrying his bottom lip slightly.

“Why not?” Harry asks, slightly disappointed that they weren’t kissing right at this very moment. Harry likes to think that Louis’s lips would be sweet like chocolate strawberries or maybe even sour like sour gummy bears.

Louis giggles and then bites his lip to stop himself, “Okay – this is going to sound extremely self-centered, but your leg is still not healed fully and what if… we get, you know…”

Harry’s eyes almost pop out of his head, “Oh my god, it’s a kiss! I’m not going to seduce you or anything!”

“Don’t think it’d take much for you to seduce me, honestly,” Louis says cheekily and winks, smile big and happy.

Harry feels his stomach stir at that and has to tell himself to calm down, that Louis didn’t mean it in a flirty way – he was just stating something that he thought Harry should know.

“Oh really?” Harry questions, one eyebrow rose up high on his forehead, questioning – maybe even just a bit daring.

Louis hums, “Yeah – I think you could probably tell me you’re dying and I’d get into bed with you. Wait – no. That was a terrible example oh my god.”

Harry giggles, “So you’d have sex with me if I was dying? I think I sort of am, honestly. Considering the whole got-bit-by-a-poisonous-snake thing,” Harry’s eyes light up, understanding a bit better, “That was your whole point – wasn’t it? Because I am dying and – cheeky.”

Louis looks at the ground and shakes his head, smiling, “No, actually. I didn’t even consider that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry pretends to agree, but he knows his voice is dripping in sarcasm. “So – what does this mean?”

“If you want – we could maybe date? You did say you felt sort of the same about me, yeah?” Louis asks and his face seems a little too hopeful for Harry to say no to (like he could say no, anyway).

“Yeah – that’s. That sound great,” Harry says, biting at the inside of his cheek.

“This has to be one of the first times that someone that was stolen goes out with the person that stole them,” Louis says, thinking out loud.

Harry nods, “Only someone entirely stupid would ever think of it.”

Someone entirely stupid indeed.


	11. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: angst angst angst   
> (there will be an epilogue sometime next week and a happy ending :))

The rest of the day consisted of what it usually consisted of – laying down and doing absolutely nothing – but there was one thing that was different in his daily activities.

 

Instead of Harry laying down in the bed in the quiet and empty room alone, he had Louis curled up into his side, tracing shapes on his hips and talking about nonsense things (like: “ _One time in school, I lit the science lab on fire because I’m a clumsy tosse_ r” and “ _I put a tack on my teacher’s chair once, mum told me it was a terrible thing to do and that she could have sued us, but that woman was absolutely dreadful; she deserved the tack up her arse_ ”).

 

Some of the things they’d decided to talk about would make Harry shake with laughter and have tears at the corner of his eyes, threatening to slip out because they were so funny. But others made Harry feel disappointed or sad and gloomy. Every time Louis would say something slightly sad and he’d catch on to the sudden change in atmosphere, he’d try his hardest to get Harry smiling and laughing and being happy again.

 

“When do you reckon my leg will be fully healed?” Harry asked once everything had gone quiet.

 

Louis jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, “Thought you were asleep,” he breathed. “I think you’ll be okay to start walking and moving around on your own tomorrow. But you need to gradually get your muscles moving again – I don’t want you straining anything.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “You act like I’m a child.”

 

Louis giggled softly and hid his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, “I’m more child-like than you, don’t worry. I’m just concerned about your well-being, is all.”

 

“Mmhm,” Harry hums sarcastically.

 

Louis swats at his side, “Oi! I am. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again, ever again, actually.”

 

It gets quiet again and Harry feels his eyelids start to droop by themselves. He’s not even remotely tired, but apparently his brain has decided differently and thinks it’s time for him to go to sleep.

 

Louis notices him nodding off and clings to his side tighter, pulling the covers up around their shoulders and placing a feather light kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips.

 

The last thought Harry has before nodding off to sleep is how couple-like they are already and they just started dating.

 

\--------

 

“Wakey-wakey, sunshine,” Louis’s voice rang through Harry’s ears, causing Harry to jump in his sleep and wake up.

 

Harry groaned, rubbing at his eyes and then opening them, waiting for his vision to get used to being used instead of his eyes being closed while he’s asleep.

 

“What time is it?” Harry asked, his voice lower than usual considering he had just woken up from a pretty _great_ dream.

 

Louis’s body shivered, “’s almost nine. I figured we could get an early start on today and you can practice moving your leg around without harming yourself.”

 

Before Harry could say anything in reply, Louis placed the dinner tray on top of his lap, placing the plate of eggs and toast and bacon on top of the tray and handing Harry the water bottle saying, “Eat up, long day ahead of us.”

 

Harry nodded, his stomach growling with anticipation of being able to eat. He’d fallen asleep way earlier than usual last night and didn’t even have enough time to eat dinner – he was absolutely _starving._

Once he had all but inhaled his breakfast, Harry spoke up.

 

“So, what are we exactly doing today?” he asked, curiously. He hoped they’d be doing more than just walking around and getting Harry used to walking on his leg. He hoped they’d be doing something that actually sounding partially exciting.

 

“Well,” Louis said, scratching the back of his neck, “I know a specialist for stretching out muscles. They live just on the corner of town. We won’t even have to go into town. I called them last night and asked if there was anything specific that I needed to do and they said that if you wanted your leg to heal correctly, I had to bring you in.”

 

“Lou-“ Harry tried to argue. Going anywhere near town could and definitely would be dangerous – for the both of them. If anyone saw them, they could call the police and Louis would get arrested and Harry would have no other choice than to go back home with his parents and his sister. And he definitely did not want to chance that. Not under any circumstances.

 

“Don’t argue, Harry,” Louis sighed, “I won’t get caught, I swear. They live more than a half a mile away from the edge of town. No one even goes anywhere near where they live. I promise, it’ll be safe, yeah? I just want you to heal properly. If you don’t – something terrible like your leg not working properly anymore could happen and I don’t want that to happen just because you’re scared that someone will see me and I’ll get arrested.”

 

Harry opened his mouth, again, prepared to argue once more and then snapped it shut. If Louis proclaimed it was safe and that there was nothing to worry about, then obviously there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Louis wouldn’t lie to him.

 

“Okay, fine. What exactly am I going to have to do, though?” Harry asked.

 

Louis shrugs, “Not all that sure. She said something about “a very long healing process that you wouldn’t understand, Louis” and I didn’t really want to hear about the ‘very long healing process that I wouldn’t understand’ so I just told her we’d be there sometime today before the sun goes down.”

 

“Why before the sun goes down?”

 

Louis shuts his eyes for a brief second, “Is that a real question? I’m not letting you back outside when it’s dark so you can step on another snake – or something worse. I’m not chancing you almost dying again.”

 

And that was that.

 

\-------

 

“So, when are we leaving?” Harry asked, legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to get up and get dressed.

 

“First, you need to bathe. You’re starting to stink again,” Louis informed Harry.

 

Harry scrunched his face, “I just took a bath yesterday! How could I start to stink _again_?”

 

Louis shrugged, “It is a part of the everyday human life to take a bath at least once a day, you are aware, right?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, “I know, I’m just saying. Okay after I take a bath what do I have to do?”

 

“Obviously get dressed. But if you’d like to get naked when we come back, that’s perfectly fine with me,” Louis winks, his tone flirty.

 

Harry giggles and feels a blush start to color on his cheeks on his neck. He bites Louis’s shoulder, expecting Louis to shimmy away and regret being cheeky, but instead Louis takes a shaky breath and whimpers.

 

Harry pulls away, licking his lips. “I think I’ll – go take a bath now…”

 

Louis flushes a bright red and nods, biting his bottom lip almost painfully hard.

 

Harry gets up on wobbly feet, limping slowly to the dresser, grabbing clothes, and then limping to the bathroom. His leg doesn’t hurt as much as it did yesterday and it’s a bit easier to walk without falling flat on his face, but it’s still quite a bit difficult. He can’t bend his leg very well, and when he does he feels a soaring pain from his knee to his ankle.

 

Once he’s in the bathroom, he undresses slowly and carefully, and then starts the water. He makes sure it isn’t too hot because when he’d taken a bath yesterday, it was scornfully hot and it burned his leg and made it even more uncomfortable to walk.

 

Once he’s in the tub and the tub is a bit more than halfway full, he shuts the tap off and starts to pour soap on a rag, washing every bit of his body. He feels more self-conscious about how he’ll look and/or smell now that he and Louis are technically together and he wants to be sure that he won’t stink or be dirty anywhere just in case he and Louis decide to… _do something._

When his whole body has been cleaned, he washes the soap off and then drains the tub, grabbing at the sides to help support his body so he can get out of the tub without hurting himself. He goes to the closet and pulls out a towel, drying off his body and then stepping into his clothes. When he’s done, he looks at himself in the mirror and bites his lip, contemplating if he looks okay.

 

He suddenly feels ridiculous. Louis obviously isn’t worried about Harry looking perfect, considering over the few days that Harry had been lying in bed and miserable, he’d looked terrible.

 

He walked – well, limped – out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and noticed that Louis was sitting patiently on the bed and waiting for him.

 

“So now what?” Harry asked, taking a seat beside Louis on the bed where he was previous, before he had went to take a bath.

 

“We – well, I – need to make some sandwiches and pack some chips and water for us to eat in the car when it’s time for lunch. And pack some other things we might need because we’ll be in the car for at least three hours,” Louis replied.

 

“ _Three hours_?” Harry asked. Three hours was bloody long. The longest Harry had ever been in a car while he was awake was for an hour and he could barely handle that without wanting to jump out the car and run into traffic to get hit.

 

Louis nods, “It’s long, I know. But this place is practically in the middle of nowhere so what did you expect?”

 

Louis wasn’t lying when he’d said they had a long day ahead of them.

 

\------

 

After Louis was done with packing up six sandwiches to split between the both of them, two bags of chips, and a whole case of water (with the first aid kit and a few extra things, just in case, Louis had said), they got in the car and started their long drive.

 

“What am I supposed to do to keep myself busy for three hours?” Harry groaned after they were in the car for only a mere short five minutes.

 

Louis rolled his eyes, “We haven’t even been in the car for ten minutes and you’re already complaining?”

 

Harry groans, “Yes. I’m bored out of my mind. Can we at least play some music? Please?”

 

Louis huffs, “I like the quiet. It’s nice.”

 

“Well I don’t. It’s boring and I’m bored. Please, Lou. I wanna listen to music,” Harry whined. He knew he was acting like a child, but he felt like he was going to die out of boredom if he didn’t find something to entertain him for at least a little while.

 

Louis sighs, “Okay, okay. Fine. Put on whatever you want.”

 

Harry feels as if he could almost squeal out of excitement, his hand going to turn the dial up and put on the radio. He searches for signal, only finding it on a station that’s playing ‘oldies’ music. Harry groans.

 

“Do you have any C.D.’s?” he asks Louis, turning towards him with hopeful eyes.

 

Louis sighs again, but nods his head and points to the middle consol. Harry opens it, digging through it and finding a few mix tapes that Louis has made by himself, most likely of all his favorite songs. Harry’s curious of what kind of music Louis listens to, so he slips it into the C.D. player and the music starts playing.

 

The tune to Look After You by The Fray rings in Harry’s ears and Harry turns to Louis smiling.

 

“You like The Fray?” he asks.

 

Louis blushes a light tint of pink, but nods anyway. “Yeah, they’re one of my favorites. This song was my favorite song for a long time.”

 

“Mine too,” Harry admits; looking out the window and watching the ground pass by underneath them while he sings along to himself the lyrics of the song.

 

He smiles when he hears Louis singing along, too.

 

\-------

 

After being in the car for an hour and a half, Harry feels like he’s about to pass out.

 

He’s extremely exhausted and he’s not quite sure why, considering all he’s been doing in the car is sitting down and singing and talking to Louis and eating sandwiches with chips and drinking down bottles of water because it’s hot as fuck outside and Louis’s air conditioner doesn’t work all that great so they have to put the windows down and that just makes the sun get into the car easier.

 

Louis notices Harry’s getting tired and sighs.

 

“If you’re tired, Harry, take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get there, yeah?” Louis tells him, removing one hand from the steering wheel to rub a soothing hand over Harry’s shoulder.

 

Harry would refuse, would argue, but he doesn’t have enough energy. His eye lids are drooping almost like he hasn’t had any sleep in weeks. His whole body has gone numb and – wait.

 

The last thought Harry has before he blacks out is “ _this is how I felt when Louis drugged me when he stole me_ ”. He’s sure something bad is going to happen now, but there’s no way he’ll be able to stop it.

 

\-------

 

When Harry wakes up, he notices that they’re still driving, but they’re on what looks to be an actual road.

 

“Oh. You-you’re awake,” Louis stutters.

 

“You drugged me. Again,” Harry says. He doesn’t even bother with asking if Louis did or did not, because he’s 100% positive that he did.

 

Louis keeps his eyes trained on the road, “I thought it would last until we at least got there. You were being a pain in the arse with how much complaining you were doing.”

 

Harry eyes him suspiciously. He’s pretty sure that that’s not the case. There has to be more to it than Harry just being ‘a pain in the arse’.

 

“So you decided to drug me?” Harry asks, hinting to Louis that he’s not as stupid as he may seem.

 

“I just thought that if you were unconscious when this happened, it’d be easier,” is all Louis says and Harry can practically feel the sadness in his voice.

 

“Wait – do… do what, Louis?” Harry asks because this isn’t making any sense. They came to the edge of town for Harry to see the healing specialist. So she could help him heal his leg the correct way.

 

Louis stops the car and Harry notices that they’re in front of a park – a park filled with _people_.

 

“I’m turning myself in,” Louis says, looking Harry straight in the eyes and not even blinking.

 

“You’re – this is a sick joke, right? You’re going to start laughing in a minute and then we’ll turn around and go to the lady that’s helping me heal my leg. And you’ll laugh about this and hold it against me saying how stupid I was for believing you. Louis this isn’t – this isn’t funny,” Harry says, he can feel tears welling up at the edge of his eyes, threatening to spill over. His mind is on a constant loop of _please be a sick joke, please be a sick joke, pleasebeasickjoke._ But somehow, deep down on the inside – he knows it isn’t.

 

Louis shakes his head, “I can’t do this to you anymore, Harry. You deserve to be with your family and friends and I deserve to be in jail for what I’ve done. I’ve fucked you up – and you can’t deny it. The first sign of someone being fucked up is them liking someone who’s fucking _stolen them away from their family_ , Harry. I’ve came to my senses. Noticed how wrong I am.”

 

Louis’s voice cracks towards the end and he has to take a deep breath before he can talk anymore, “I just want you to know something, okay? I love you, you know? I do. I’m pretty sure it was love at first sight. But I want you to go home after they take me away, yeah? I want you to go home and be with your family – be _happy_ with your family. I want you to find someone you _actually_ love, find someone that can make you happy without having to hide out somewhere in the middle of nowhere. And I want you to forget about me. Forget all about me _ever_ existing.”

 

Harry feels like he could scream. If there was one word to describe how he’s feeling right now, it would be furious. He’s not hurt – well, he is, he’s more than hurt – but he’s fucking _furious_.

 

“No! No. You’re not doing this to me, Louis. I won’t – I won’t let you,” Harry screams, fisting Louis’s shirt in his hands. He has tears streaming down his face and he didn’t even _know_ he was crying until he felt some of them slipping into his shirt.

 

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Harry,” Louis screams back, grabbing Harry’s hands into his own. “I have to do this, okay? I don’t want to. Trust me, if I could just stay with you forever, I would. But it won’t work like that. I’ve done something terrible and I need to grow some balls and face up to my consequences. Promise me; promise me Harry, that you’ll be happy. That you’ll move on and you’ll forget all about me. Please, _promise me_.”

 

Harry shakes his head violently and sobs some more, hiding his face into Louis’s shirt and crying. He wishes he would have given Louis a chance from the start, maybe if he had then Louis wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing right now. If he did, maybe Louis wouldn’t feel like Harry doesn’t actually love him. But he does, _he fucking loves_ Louis and now he’s never going to see Louis ever again and that thought fucking _hurts._

“Please, Louis. Please don’t do this. I love you, okay? I love you. I do, I swear. Please, please don’t do this,” Harry sobs some more.

 

Louis is quiet for a minute, pulling Harry away from his chest and placing his lips against Harry’s. Harry has tears streaming down his cheeks and leaking into their mouths, but Harry could give two fucks less at the moment. If this kiss, if this kiss means that Louis will stay with him, then so be it.

 

Harry tries prodding his tongue against Louis’s lips, tries to slip it into Louis’s mouth and entwine their tongues, but Louis pulls away and wipes at Harry’s cheeks.

 

Louis places one more feather light kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, and before Harry can stop him, he steps out of the car.

 

The last thing Harry hears before he starts crying again is “Oh my God! That’s the bloke that stole Harry Styles! Someone call the police!”


	12. epilogue

When they grabbed him to pull him out of the car, the reality of what just happened really started to kick in.

Harry wasn’t going without a fight.

A police officer opened the door, cooing to Harry to stop crying “ _Your safe now, Harry, your safe now. He’ll never harm you again_ ” he had said to him, thinking Harry was crying because he was scared of Louis.

That’s when Harry started screaming.

He’s not precise; he may have started screaming long before the officer even showed up to escort Harry away, but he’s pretty sure it was at that moment, that precise moment that the officer had the nerve to think Harry was crying for any other reason than  _not wanting Louis to leave_.

“Your family is on their way, yeah? We just want to take you to the ambulance, okay? We have blankets and food and water, yeah? And we want you to sit down and calm down with a nice little blanket and drink some water and eat some food and then once you’re calm, we want you to tell us everything that happened. From the beginning. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. It would just make everything a lot easier. When your family gets here, we’ll talk to your parents for a minute and then you can finally go home, Harry. Your family has missed you like crazy. Searched everywhere for you,” the police officer informed him.

But Harry didn’t want to go sit in his stupid bloody ambulance. He didn’t want his damn blanket or food or water. He would die before he took anything from this stupid arse of a police officer. But most of all, Harry didn’t want to go home – at least not with his parents. He wanted to go  _home_  – with Louis.

“No,” Harry spit out, gritting his teeth together. He was making enough of a scene as it is, and now the police officer was going to cause an even bigger one. But Harry didn’t quite care, honestly, considering he had plans of going back to the middle of nowhere with Louis and never coming back. He wouldn’t have to see these people ever again.

“Why not, Harry?” the police officer asked, fake concern indented in his forehead.

“Because I want Louis! Where have you taken him?” Harry screamed, making an attempt at pushing the police officer out of the way so that he could try to run away, run after Louis.

The police officer didn’t budge a muscle, grabbing Harry by his forearms and shaking him a bit with the velocity and strength of his grip, “You want Louis? As in the sicko that took you away from your family and friends and did God-knows-what-to-you?” He started to laugh and it just made Harry furious.

“He’s not a sicko! Let go of me! Louis!” Harry screamed. His throat was starting to ache from the amount of screaming he had done in the past thirty minutes.

The police officer turned his head, looking over his shoulder and nodding his head to call one of his co-workers over to the car.

“I think he’s gone nuts, might need to bring him down to the hospital, get him checked. Says the man that stole him isn’t a sicko and he wants to go with him,” the police officer said to his co-worker and they both began to laugh.

The sound of their laughing and the blood boiling to Harry’s head in fury mixed together made Harry’s vision blur, his head feeling like it was spinning around and everyone starting looking… colorful.

“Come on, bud, let’s get you to the ambulance, yeah? Mummy said she’s coming as fast as she can and to stay put and for us to keep a good eye on you,” the co-worker said to Harry, making it look – and sound – like Harry was some sort of mentally disabled or young child.

Harry growled, “I’m not going anywhere with either of you.”

The police officer shrugged, “I didn’t go into training for anything.” Before Harry could prepare himself, he was being lifted – rather roughly – up onto the police officers shoulder and held with a tight grip on his legs.

Suddenly, he was being lowered down, and noticed he was now sitting in the back of the ambulance, an abundance of food, water, and blankets in an opened cabinet next to him.

“Now you stay there and wait for mummy to get here,” the co-worker told Harry. Then, both the co-worker and the police officer turned their backs on Harry.

 _They should be fired,_ Harry thought with a roll of his eyes. But honestly, he was glad that he had a pair of idiots watching over him. It made sneaking away and finding Louis much easier.

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Harry said, stifling a fake yawn.

The police officer turned around slightly with a smile on his face, “Alright, love, get some sleep. I’m sure mum will let you know when she gets here.” Then turned back to face the opposite way of Harry.

Harry waited a full minute, waiting to see if either of the two men were ever going to turn around and check on Harry. Harry figured they weren’t, considering he was listening to their conversation about “ _I like the women that decide to wear sports bras when they run. Their tits are nice in them.”_

He stood up, slowly, considering his leg was still pretty sore. That’s when he started to panic.  _How the hell am I supposed to find Louis when I can barely walk?_

He groaned to himself, snapping his mouth shut when he noticed that one of the two men that were supposed to be in charge of watching him could have heard. When neither of them budged or showed any form of acknowledgment of the fact that Harry was definitely not asleep, he began to trudge slowly – but surely – towards the front of the ambulance.

Harry opened the door, deciding maybe if he stole the ambulance it would be easier to get to Louis. He was pretty sure Louis was down at the police station, pushed behind bars until – Harry didn’t even know, honestly.

But then he decided against it. If he stole the ambulance, they’d be able to track him. He was about to close the door to the ambulance – softly, of course, to be sure that no one could hear the sound of the car door – when his eyes caught onto something purple and white.

 _Of course they’d leave their money just lying around,_ Harry rolled his eyes, reaching out and pocketing all the money. He didn’t even bother counting it, deciding that it had to be an awful lot considering they were – very bad – ambulance drivers.

Harry looked both ways out of the window, checking to make sure no one had been watching him. When he noticed that no one was paying any attention to the scene in the parking lot for the park, he hopped out of the ambulance and shut the door softly. He walked a little farther down the street, past the trees, so that if the police officer and the co-worker were to turn around, they wouldn’t be able to see Harry unless they started to actually  _look_  for him.

Once he was perfectly well hidden, he tracked down an empty cab and got in, telling them to drive him to the police station. When they passed by the ambulance, Harry didn’t even bother turning his head so that they couldn’t see him.

They wouldn’t have noticed anyway.

————

Harry noticed after being in the cab for a total of one and a half miles, that the cab driver had kept sneaking glances at him through his rear-view mirror.

“Hey,” the cabbie spoke up, “Aren’t you that kid… Jerry Styles? No – Harry Styles! Him. You look just like him, kid.”

“Never heard of him,” Harry lied. He hoped it sounded as convincing as he’d tried to make it.

The cabbie laughed, “Dunno how you could not. That kid’s face is everywhere. Apparently he was stolen by some bloke at the airport. His parents have been worried sick ever since.”

Harry resisted the urge to scoff. Like his parents had any actual worries about him. They could care a less what happened to him, honestly.

“Well, hopefully they find him,” Harry said, forcing a smile. He didn’t want to be found, but if he hadn’t said anything or said anything other than that, he would have made himself seem too obvious.

The rest of the ride was only a short five minutes of watching outside of the window, watching as the grass and trees and cars and people passed by on the side of the road.

Once the cab driver parked into the parking lot at the jail, Harry started to wonder what the hell he was going to do. How was he going to go through the jail and ask to visit Louis Tomlinson without raising any suspicion or seeming familiar? If a cab driver – one that wasn’t trained to spot people out – could notice him, then who says a pair of actual cops wouldn’t notice him?

He decided he’d just go on instinct, figure out what to do while he was doing it. If he could get away from two trained people without even causing them to flinch, he could surely out run a bunch of cops, right?

He paid the cab driver, giving him a tip, and then walked up to one of the windows of the jail.

Sure enough, there was a police officer sitting at a large desk in front of a door that would have to be opened to get into the actual jail center part of the building. The police officer looked as if he was half asleep, though, and Harry scoffed. This should be easier than he’d thought it would be. Well, at least the getting inside of the jail part. Getting to Louis may be a bit more difficult.

Harry slowly opened the door, making sure that the door wouldn’t make too much noise when he entered and wake up the police officer snoring slightly at his desk.

Harry peered over the desk, seeing a red button that said “OPEN” in big, black letters. He figured that that must be the button he’d have to press in order for the door to open. The only worry he had, now, was whether the door would make as much noise as he thought it would.

With hope that the door wouldn’t be too noisy, Harry stretched his arm slowly over the counter and pressed the big, red button. The police officer didn’t move, didn’t show any signs of him knowing that there was anyone other than him in the big, white room.

The door began to open, making a soft creaking noise. The noise wasn’t loud, barely audible unless you were really listening for the noise. Harry looked nervously over his shoulder at the cop seated at the desk and sighed; wiping the line of sweat from his forehead when he noticed the cop was still fast asleep.

He poked his head through the open door, noticing that there was a table with guards seated at it in the corner. They were all playing poker. Harry made a silent note to himself that if he ever were to stay in Holmes Chapel, he wouldn’t worry about the strict policemen at the jail center, because they were all hopeless and in need of firing.

Harry searched around, his eyes scanning every cell in the jail. He saw brown, tousled hair out of the corner of his eye, in the far back left corner.

Harry checked to make sure the guards hadn’t noticed his arrival and began slowly and quietly walking towards the back of the jail.

Once he was at the cell that he was pretty sure held Louis, he could tell that it was, indeed, Louis. Louis had a single photograph in his hand, holding it like it was the most precious thing in his life. His thumb was tracing soft patterns over the picture and he was humming to himself, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back lain against the wall.

“Louis,” Harry said, hands coming up to grab at the bars of the jail.

Louis’s head snapped up at the voice, his eyes going wide for a moment, and then he was up on his feet, his hands coming up over Harry’s on the bars.

“How did you get here, Harry?” Louis asked. His voice sounded worn out and pleading.

Harry smiled, “No one around here does their job very well.”

He paused for a minute, thinking he’d heard a noise and then noticed that it was just someone in the cell next to Louis’s moving on their bed.

“Why the hell did you turn yourself in, Louis?” Harry begged for an answer. He still wasn’t completely sure as to why Louis would do such a thing. They were just starting to get along – Harry was just starting to actually  _like_  him. And now he’s gone and fucked everything up.

Louis shut his eyes tightly for a brief second and when he opened them again, they were a bright shade of glassy blue.

“I thought it was the right thing to do. But the whole time I was worrying myself sick over if you were okay and if they were treating you right. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve done the totally wrong thing,” Louis confessed, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye.

Harry wiped the tear away, smiling watery at Louis, “I’m going to get you out of here, yeah? I’m going to get you out. I won’t let them keep you here – and I won’t let them take me and put me back with my mum. We’ll leave and – and we’ll go back, yeah? Back to your silly little house with its damned snakes and its beautiful stars. We’ll go back and we won’t leave until we have to come back for supplies. And when we do come back, we’ll make sure we have a disguise. No one will notice us. And it’ll be just me and you. For the rest of our lives.”

Louis smiled, laughing a watery, sad laugh and nodded, his hand reaching out to pet at Harry’s face. Harry leaned into the touch, almost purring with how much adoration was in the small gesture.

“How am I going to get out, Harry?” Louis asked after a while.

Harry’s mood crashed and fell like a tidal wave in the middle of a hurricane because he  _didn’t know_. He didn’t think that far. Instead of coming up with a plan, he just decided to go by bloody instinct.

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Harry sighed, looking around and making sure that the guards hadn’t overheard them talking and decided to get up and check what was going on out.

Louis sighed shakily, but nodded. He walked a bit backwards and sat in the position he was in previously when Harry had just walked towards the cell.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, starting to panic.

“Quitting,” Louis said simply.

Harry felt his throat start to close up and he could tell he was about to cry.

“You can’t give up! You can’t stay here and you sure as hell can’t make me go back home. I want to be with you, Louis. You and  _only you._  And for that to happen you need to  _help me_ ,” Harry begged, his hands rattling at the bars a bit. He was hoping that with enough force that the bars would just collapse, but then figured out shortly that the odds of that happening was 1-0.

Louis looked up, his cheeks stained with tears. “I’ve done something terrible and this is God’s way of punishing me. We’ll just have to get over it, Harry.”

“Just – Louis! Are you fucking insane? How do you expect me to just go back home and hear everyone tell me how sorry they are that someone so ‘ _sick_ ’ could ever do something so ‘ _terrible_ ’ to me? How am I supposed to go home and have to go through my mum asking me if you raped me or hit me or  _tortured_ me? How am I supposed to go through every  _fucking_  day without missing you or thinking about you? How am I supposed to live  _without you?”_  Harry screamed, hitting the bars with as much force as he could manage.

Louis sniffled, hugging his legs to his chest tighter and didn’t say anything to Harry in return.

“Fine,” Harry spat, “If you want to be difficult, I’ll just think of a way to get you out  _by myself_.”

He peered down the walkway and noticed that he didn’t hear anyone talking or laughing anymore like he had when he had first walked in. His first thought was that they had heard him screaming at Louis and had gone quiet so that they could listen to the conversation better. But when he noticed that there also wasn’t a light on in the little corner that they were sitting in, he thought about how maybe they went on a break to eat or go to the bathroom or something.

He craned his head to the side a bit so he could get a view of the table, noticing how it was now empty and the cards were left in a neat pile perched on top of the table.

Harry looked back at Louis. Louis still had his knees pressed up against his chest and his head was now pushed into the middle of them, hiding his face from everyone and anyone.

Harry began to walk towards the front, planning on a search for keys or anything that would open the cell for Louis to be free and for them to escape.

“Hey, kid,” a voice from the side said to him when he passed by the cell next to Louis’s.

Harry’s head snapped to the side, looking at the man that was standing against the bars of his cell.

“You that kid everyone been talking about, then? The one that the bloke in the cell next to me stole?” the man asked in a curious tone, his head cocked to the side.

Harry nodded, “Yeah – yeah. That’s me.”

The man hummed, “Then why you trying to get the fella out? Aint you supposed to be home by now? You aint missed your family or summat?”

Harry wiped at his nose, “I’m in love with him.”

The man’s eyebrow cocked up and he chuckled a bit, “Love picks the weirdest ones, yeah? Are those blokes still guardin’ or are they on break?”

“They aren’t there anymore… so I’m guessing they’re on break,” Harry replied, confused as to what the man was trying to get at.

The man nodded, “Lemme tell you something, Harry. Getting the keys gonna be easy, you hear? But getting out – that’s the problem. But I’ve got a plan for you. I’ve been here for a total of three years – been planning this thing the whole time I’ve been here. But I want you to have the plan, keep it, use it, love it, whatever. You deserve a happy life more than I do.”

Harry nodded, leaning in closer to the man’s cell so that the man could whisper his plan into his ear.

———

Getting the key was the easiest sounding part, Harry concluded.

After the man had told him the steps to his plan of escaping, he walked to the front of the jail center, grabbing the keys and started his walk back to Louis’s cell. He wasn’t quite sure if Louis would leave with him, but he sure as hell would force him if Louis did anything but jump up and leave with him.

He unlocked Louis’s cell, Louis’s head popping up at the sound.

“Come on, we’re leaving. I’ve got a plan,” Harry said, grabbing Louis’s hand and lifting him up.

“Are we really doing this?” Louis asked, sounding nervous. “If they catch me, I could be put to death.”

Harry pressed his lips soft and quick to Louis’s lips, “You’ll be okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Louis’s cheeks were a deep shade of red and he had, what looked to be, a permanent smile plastered onto his lips.

“Okay then, let’s do this,” Louis agreed, his hand entwining with Harry’s own.

Looking back on things, Harry would definitely conclude that getting Louis out of his cell was the easiest part of the whole plan.

——-

They get to the door, Harry peeking his head out and sighing continentally when he notices that the police man at the counter in the front is still sound asleep.

He gestures for Louis to follow, that it’s safe for him to follow behind. Louis is right behind him and they go to the counter, grabbing an envelope opener and then going out into the parking lot.

“Do you think anyone will see what we’re doing and turn us in?” Louis wonders out loud.

Harry shrugs, “Don’t think anyone comes around here unless they’re going to visit someone in the jail. But it isn’t visiting hours, so we should be fine. Stop worrying and keep watch, yeah?”

Louis nods, looking around and watching for if anyone were to see them or if the police man inside or any of the body guards were to notice them in the parking lot.

Harry goes to work at slashing the tires the best he can with the envelope opener. It turns out, envelope openers aren’t as sharp as they’re made out to be, but they do well enough to stab a good hole in the thick tire, the air making a wheezing noise as it slowly escapes its confines.

Harry goes to the other three tires on the police car, and then goes to the other police cars, slashing holes in the tires and poking holes in the exhaust tank so that the oil will slip out. He leaves only one car with actual tires and oil because that’s the car that he and Louis will need in order to escape.

Louis hops into the driver’s seat, Harry taking his place in the passenger’s side.

“What are we supposed to do if there isn’t enough gas?” Louis asks, panicking slightly.

“Don’t think that way, yeah? Think good thoughts. We’ve got this. All we have to do now is get as far away from town without anyone noticing us – or running out of gas,” Harry says, gulping a bit when Louis doesn’t start the car.

“Why aren’t you starting it?” Harry practically screams; his hands and voice shaky with fear of getting caught.

“We forgot something,” Louis says, shoving his face roughly in his hands, “We fucking forgot the damned keys!”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry groans, searching through the whole car in search of keys. He finally finds one, shoving it into the key hole and turning it. The car starts and they both sigh happily and with relief.

“Now, please, fucking drive,” Harry begs Louis. He feels nervous, like he can tell that this isn’t going to end well or happily. He has a nervous voice in the back of his head reminding him that  _someone could see either of you any minute and Louis will get the slaughter and you’ll go home and be miserable without him there to keep you company._

Louis starts the car, driving off into the street and trying to make them seem like they aren’t doing any wrong. They’re doing the right thing. They are.

———

They get out of town without any hassle. It’s quite funny; really, the fact that they ended up passing by their mum and the ambulance that Harry isn’t present in the back of.

His mum is screaming at the officers; Harry doesn’t quite catch what she’s saying. He doesn’t quite care much, either.

They’re almost exactly out of town, only driving slowly on the edge of town where barely anything can be found, when they run out of gas.

“Oh my god,” Harry sobs into his hands. This is just their luck.

“Didn’t we pass a gas station a few minutes ago? There’s one somewhere down this street. I’ll go and get some gas, yeah? Don’t freak out on me, Harry,” Louis says grabbing Harry’s face, softly, in-between his hands.

“No! They’ll notice you, Lou. You’ll get caught and I won’t be able to know if you’re okay or not because I’ll be sitting here like the idiot that just let you go. I’m not letting you go,” Harry says.

“You aren’t coming, Harry. It’s bad enough you’ve walked – I don’t even know how much – on your leg already today. You. Are. Not. Coming.”

Harry whines, “What if someone notices you and they bring you back to jail and I’m stuck here without even knowing?”

“They won’t,” Louis says back softly, his thumb rubbing circles into Harry’s lower lip, “I’ll be just a little while, yeah? It’s about a mile or so away, so that’ll take me maybe 20 minutes to walk and then five-ten minutes to get the gas and some water and food for both of us. Then 20 or so minutes for me to walk back. So I shouldn’t be any longer than a bit over an hour. I’ll be okay, yeah? Just promise me you’ll stay in the car.”

Harry nods, “I’ll stay in the car, I promise. Just – hurry up, yeah? And don’t let anyone notice you.”

Louis smiles, placing a kiss to Harry’s lips and shutting his eyes tightly when Harry’s lips follow his when he pulls away.

Harry’s lips latch onto Louis’s in a way to where he’s begging  _please don’t go_.

Louis moans at the touch and opens his mouth to Harry, letting Harry’s persistent tongue slip into his mouth. He grabs at his seat with tight knuckles whenever they’re tongues entwine and let’s a whimpery-moan slip through his lips and into Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s lips twitch into the kiss and his trousers are starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. But he’s above having sex in a car in the middle of trying to escape from getting caught, so he pulls away and almost groans when Louis sinks his teeth into Harry’s bottom lip and pulls him back into the kiss.

Before Harry can even register what’s happening, Louis is pushing him back against the seat and climbing into his lap to straddle him.

Harry moans, his fingers twitching with the want – and need – to grab Louis’s hips and pull him down into his lap. But he doesn’t, has to remind himself about the part where he’s  _above_ doing all of this. He’s starting to think  _fuck it_ , though, and going below.

When Louis’s hand starts to slowly travel down the front of Harry’s body, slowly making its way to Harry’s trousers, Harry decides it’s time to stop. He grabs Louis’s wrist, pulling away from the kiss and trying to regain his breathing. He feels like he’s just ran five miles.

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” Louis giggles, breathless. His forehead rests against Harry’s, and really, Harry is pretty sure that Louis should have moved out of his lap by now, because he’s still hard as a rock and having Louis’s body weight only a mere inch away from his boner is not helping his teenage hormones at all.

“I think I can live with you getting gas and snacks now,” Harry says, giggling into Louis’s shoulder.

“Just be careful, yeah?” he gets serious for a minute. He’s riding on a high of happiness from having the best snog of his life, but he’s still nervous and scared that Louis has a 50/50 chance of getting noticed and thrown back in jail – well, getting hanged or the chair.

“I will,” Louis agrees, placing one last feather light kiss to Harry’s plump, sore lips and then leaning over the counsel to get his wallet. As he leans over, he brushes over Harry’s crotch, and by instinct Harry grabs his hips and pulls him down a bit harder into his lap.

Harry can feel the tingle that goes through Louis’s whole body and can practically feel the flutter that goes through his chest at the movement.

“Oh,” Louis gasps, his torso coming back up from where he was leaning to grab his wallet. Now his crotch is flush with Harry’s, and Harry can’t really hold back the moan of need that tears through his lips.

Harry knows that he should be letting Louis go get the gas so that they could get back home safely and then they could finish up once they are home, but the fact that he’s a teenager and he’s already got to feel Louis against him, is more of an answer than anything.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes, his head coming to rest in the crook of Harry’s neck. He slowly starts to move his hips in tiny little figure eights against Harry’s bulge and Harry feels like a fire has been ignited inside of him and he just needs  _more_.

He grabs Louis’s hips and roughly pulls him down, tighter, against him, bucking his hips up at the same time and throwing his head back at how fucking delicious it feels.

Louis moans and starts to actually, really, grind against Harry. Harry can feel in the pit of his stomach that he’s about to come, and it’s way too soon, but he doesn’t care. If it were any other time, he might try to stave off the feeling, but all he needs right now is to just come. And soon.

“I’m gonna come,” he whispers, warning Louis. Louis moans and grinds down filthier and faster against Harry, and looks up to capture Harry’s lips into his for a kiss.

When Harry comes, he’s almost sure that his vision whites out from how much he’s needed this, how much he’s wanted this.

Louis continues to rub against him, softly, easing him through his orgasm, and then stops completely, grabbing his wallet from where he’d placed it in the driver’s seat and going to open the door.

“Wait,” Harry says, taking a hold of Louis’s out stretched arm, “You didn’t even – you didn’t come.”

“Can’t walk around to the gas station with soiled trousers, can I? Don’t worry; you can do whatever you’d like to me once we’re home, yeah?” Louis says cheekily and places a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Now just sit here and be pretty for an hour, yeah? And then we’ll go home.”

Harry nods, slowly, and finally let’s Louis leave the car, let’s Louis begin his mile or so walk to the gas station.

—————

When Louis finally gets to the gas station, he has sweat everywhere and he feels gross. It’s hot as hell outside and he feels a bit dehydrated from walking through the heat without anything to drink for a whole mile.

He walks into the gas station, walks to the back of the store and grabs the biggest thing of gasoline that he can find, and then grabs four bottles of water and a few sandwiches and bags of chips. He’s starting to get hungry, so he’s pretty sure that Harry’s hungry too.

He gets to the counter, the cashier watching him funnily. The cashier has blonde hair and bright blue eyes and his name tag says “NIALL” in big blue letter’s underneath the words “HI MY NAME IS” and above “HAVE A GOOD DAY”.

“Mate,” Niall says, his voice thick with an Irish accent, “Aren’t you that bloke on the news?”

Louis’s whole body goes on lock down for what seems to be forever but is only a few seconds, “Dunno what you’re talking about, mate.”

Niall shakes his head, his tongue poking out from concentration, “No, you are! You’re Louis Tomlinson, the bloke that stole that kid. It’s okay, I’m not going to rat you out or anything. You’re mate – Eleanor – she told me everything, like explained it to me. Says she keeps in touch with you once a week. I don’t see any harm in what you’ve done.”

“Really?” Louis asks, because he’s been noticed by a good bit of people today and none of them has had anything equally seeming nice to say like Niall has.

Niall nods, “From what El says – you’re dating now?”

Louis grins, “Yeah. We’re actually trying to get home before the police notice that we’ve left. But the car we stole ran out of gas.”

“That sucks, mate. I’m guessing you’re in a rush to get back, then, yeah?” Niall asks, ringing up all of Louis’s stuff and putting it into bags so that Louis can hurry up and leave.

“Yeah, Harry’s a nervous wreck. Don’t think he’ll feel safe until we’re home.”

“Uh-oh,” Niall says, “Get behind the counter, don’t move no matter what, yeah?”

“Wha-“ Louis begins to ask, but then Niall yanks him over the counter.

Louis hears the faint ring of the door of the gas station opening and someone saying, “Niall, how are you?”

“Good, good, how are you Liam?” Niall asks back, his voice tight.

“I’m good, other than the fact that I’m about to be fired because a couple of blokes down at the station seemed to let Louis Tomlinson loose and now he’s escaped with Harry Styles. For a second time,” the bloke – Liam – replies, his voice sounding a good bit of unhappy.

“So you caught him?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, dumb baster turned himself in. But now he’s gone again. Have you seen him?” Liam asks and it sounds like he’s pleading, really.

Niall shakes his head, “Nope. I didn’t even know that he was back – or left, for the matter. I hope you find him, though. He deserves to be behind bars for a  _very long_  time.”

Liam hums in agreement, “You haven’t seen any cars pass right here, have you? He might have left town this way.”

Niall laughs, “And go where? There’s nothing but desert pass here. If he did go, you have nothing to worry about. He’d be dead in a day or two from dehydration.”

Liam stifles a short laugh, “Alright. Well, thanks Niall. Have a nice day, yeah? And if you hear anything, let me know?”

Niall nods, “I will be sure to do that, Officer Payne.”

The next thing Louis hears is the faint bell again, but he doesn’t dare to budge. He waits a total of five minutes before Niall pulls him up by his arm and tells him the coast is clear.

“You sure he’s gone?” Louis asks, nervous as hell now. He knows now that they’ve noticed he and Harry are missing and they’re looking for them.

Niall nods, “Yeah, I saw him go down the street. He’s more than gone now. Hurry back to your boyfriend before he starts to get too worried, yeah? And stay safe.”

Louis nods, plants a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek, “Thanks for – thanks.”

Niall blushes, but nods, tips his head a bit and bids Louis good day and then Louis is grabbing his bags and making his way out of the shop and back to the car.

————-

Harry starts to worry when Louis isn’t back after an hour and fifteen minutes has passed. He’s starting to get fidgety, his hands shaking in his lap, and his pants are by far more than uncomfortable.

After a while of chorusing to himself not to worry, he turns around in his seat and starts watching through the back window. Slowly, he can see a figure making their way to the car, and his heart leaps into his throat. He prays silently that it’s Louis making his way to the car and not anyone else.

When the figure gets closer to the car, Harry can make out that it is Louis, holding four bags full of God-knows-what.

Harry sits down in his seat, his heart hammering in his chest, and waits until Louis gets to the car door.

“You’re okay,” Harry says, finally breathing, finally feeling like he’s safe. They’ve gotten through this; they’ve gotten through all the parts in the plan. They only have getting home safely left and then it’s just them, together, forever.

Louis smiles, big and bright, and takes his seat on the driver’s side, placing the bags on top of the counsel.

“A cop came, but the cashier hid me and told the cop all kinds of stuff to get him off our tracks. We’re safe, Harry, we’re going to be okay,” Louis said, kissing everywhere on Harry’s face with relief.

Harry felt so relieved he thought he could scream.

“Damn, I almost forgot,” Louis said, grabbing the oil out of the bag, “I need to put this in the car. And then we can go. We get to go home.”

———

The ride home took a good three-four hours of eating and drinking and talking and snuggling – on Harry’s part, of course.

Once they were home, Harry felt like his chest was going to explode with how filled it felt.

They were finally together, safe, and with nothing to worry about.

They were finally  _home_. 


End file.
